


Recondition, Discard Again

by eruriotica (minxiebutt)



Series: RDA series [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dehumanization, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feral Behavior, Home Invasion, Hunting Humans, Imprisonment, Knives, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overdosing, Ownership, Past Torture, Physical Abuse, Really bad at-home medical care, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, burning human bodies, dressing whip, involuntary holding, involuntary sterilisation, sorry nanaba, this is really fucked up please don't romanticise it openly, uneven power dynamic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7775212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxiebutt/pseuds/eruriotica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even a chipped blade, in the right hands, can be useful again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seizure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cover art](http://minxiebutt.tumblr.com/private/156748878768/tumblr_okse602IfX1s1v78y)

 

 

 

 _“Maybe this was too easy._ ”

 

“I’ve completed my task, sir, and I would like take on another one. You know I can accomplish whatever you give me to do.”

 

_“Charming, but you're not done with this one, yet.”_

 

“Sir?”

 

_“This is Kuchel Ackerman’s son. The poster child whose experience the government exploits to discount our Organisation.”_

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

 _“What am I supposed to do with him? He's not an activist like his mother. He's got no useful information.”_ There's a rustling of papers. _“Post-traumatic stress disorder signs are minimal, adjusted to daily life as of a year ago. General anxiety disorder. Attends therapy bi-weekly. Currently takes tricyclic antidepressants and benzodiazepines, closely monitored.”_

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“ _No known associates, roommates, or significant others. So, no one is missing him.”_

 

“Correct, sir.”

 

_“Tell me, is he a benefit to us as he is now?”_

 

“No, sir.”

 

_“It’d be a waste to just let him go, wouldn’t it. Since we have him, how can we make him useful?”_

 

A long pause. “We can rebuild him to our cause.”

 

_“You’re a promising one. Here’s this: you go ahead and take our newest little recruit up to the mountain estate for a while. Bring me back a weapon worth the time and effort. Just remember, I’d hate to invest in this only for it to be a disappointment.”_

 

“Understood, sir. Thank you, sir.”

 

;;;

 

Erwin Smith has a promising future ahead of him. He’s moving through the ranks thanks to his strategic and efficient style, and he is slotted for a hefty promotion if this goes well. There’s no reason it shouldn’t. Erwin has the education and apprenticeship under his belt to accomplish this difficult task.

 

He sits in his cramped, junior office, pouring over the thick file for _Ackerman, Levi._ Their intel officers and info-runners have compiled an impressive amount on the boy. But why wouldn’t they? He was the one that got away ten years ago, and their eyes have been on him since, waiting to make the perfect move. And that perfection has been thrust upon Erwin-- he is honoured that they find him adequate to carry out this mission.

 

 _Ackerman, Levi_ : male, twenty-four years and six months of age, holds a valid passport and concealed carry permit, no driver’s license, no employment history, graduated from a private high school with an unimpressive grade point average, no college education. According to the bank records that were pulled, he was making ends meet on the monthly allotments of Kuchel’s life insurance and a neat little stipend from the government. Seized from his hole-in-the-wall apartment were two handguns in a case, and a pistol was confiscated from his person when he was taken under.

 

 _Ackerman, Levi_ takes a small series of medications. He exercises regularly: a gym membership, and intel has nabbed his activity log. Arrives at the gym at six every morning, give or take a few minutes, and doesn’t leave for ninety minutes, usually taking in one of the emptier, early morning mixed martial arts classes. It’s impressive. The boy probably thinks that he’s training to defend himself from the dangers that lurk, but Erwin looks over to the dog kennel in the corner of his office and chortles.

 

Inside is _Ackerman, Levi_ , his shaggy black tresses spilling through the grate on the front. He’s curled up and still passed out. He will be for a while. Erwin administers a heavy sedative every few hours to keep him in repose. Some good all that training is doing the boy when he’s locked up like a labrador.

 

Honestly, the boy looks like an animal, too. The records stolen from his psychiatrist say he’s adjusted to normal daily life. What a laugh. The boy looks like a skittish, rabid animal in all their photographs and reports, and he looks even more feral in person. His skin is alabaster, his eyes sunken in and ringed with purple. He’s skinny, as if he’s not eating, but he’s heavy as shit so there’s muscle somewhere under his translucent skin. Erwin’s going to have to keep him bound up. He turns his eyes back to the file.

 

 _Ackerman, Levi_ had been in their custody previously alongside _Ackerman, Kuchel_. Had undergone torture as a way to get Kuchel to talk. It didn’t work at first, apparently. Levi received a myriad of wounds at his mother’s insistence to keep her trap shut. What kind of woman could watch her child be tortured like that? Erwin reads the detached and clinical summary, a sour taste on his tongue that Kuchel witnessed this and placed her loyalty to the government over her child’s well being.

 

_\--BEGIN REPORT, ONE PER LINE_

_\--left arm: 24 lacerations at two-millimeters deep, 24 at four-millimeters_

_\--right arm: ‘ ‘ ‘_

_\--back, 48 lacerations at four-millimeters deep_

_\--shoulders, 15 cigarette burns_

_\--left hand, all metacarpal bones and proximal phalanges broken_

_\--right hand, ring and pinky fingers removed at the metacarpophalangeal joints_

_\--right tibia, compound fracture_

_\--left tibia, simple fracture_

_\--right ear, external cartilage removed_

_\--blood loss, one liter transfusion of O-neg administered_

_\--END REPORT, DO NOT ADD ITEMS BELOW THIS LINE_

 

Their report of the interrogation shows that after Levi’s right tibia received a compound fracture, Kuchel began to talk. Insignificant details at first, but then her son’s ear was removed and she opened like a vault. Good. Erwin was beginning to think the woman had loved her government more than her own flesh and blood. Figures, though. Anyone so blinded by the propaganda as to become a vocal activist probably had a few screws loose.

 

Erwin flicks through the rest of the files, ten years’ worth, before he starts to write out his plan for _Ackerman, Levi_ . The boy won't be hard to break, not with a psyche as delicate as his. Erwin's just got to play his cards right. After his torture and assisted escape, Levi went through a series of failed foster homes before shipping out to a boarding school. If Erwin can balance his kindness with his cruelty, he will be able to tear down Levi’s stability and feed on his insecurities. At the top of the paper, Erwin writes in an important quote and underlines it. ‘ _If you get people to attach their self-worth to something you provide for them, you have great power over them_.’

 

This will be child’s play.

 

;;;

 

The mountain estate is Erwin Smith’s least favourite of the Organisation’s properties. It's a troublesome, long drive from the city, the majority of it down gravel roads. In the passenger seat of his truck, the dog kennel shakes against its restraining seat belt, but the occupant doesn't stir, dead to the world.

 

The wire fence marking the property line finally comes into view after forty minutes on the gravel, even though his mailbox is _miles_ back, out on the paved county road, sitting in a neat cluster with a dozen others. No one invests in this untamed land to have neighbors within view; his nearest one is twenty more miles north. Curving west, Erwin pulls into the driveway that will be his for however long it takes him to turn his captive into a willing weapon. He stops at the cattle guard to unlock the gate, drives through, and then gets back out to lock it again. There’s no expectation for prying way out here, but it’s habit to secure perimeters.

 

As he makes it the rest of the way, he tallies up the changes in the odometer. Twenty miles from the city limits to the mailboxes, where he turns and the pavement runs out. From there to the gate at the property line, it's another twenty, but it takes twice as long on the bumpy, unpaved road. He counts each mile up to the house, clocking just shy of fifteen when he parks and turns off the engine. Whether it was always so creepy out here, he doesn't know, and chocks it up to the fact that anything bathed solely in moonlight with encroaching darkness is unsettling by human nature.

 

It's a modest structure at the peak of a low hill. Erwin gets out of his truck and goes to unlock his new domicile. Every couple of weeks, a new recruit is sent up to play housekeeper, so Erwin isn’t surprised when a clean house greets him.

 

The house is free of any loose articles that can be brandished as weapons. There's not a piece of cutlery in the kitchen; no ceramic eatery to smash and use the sharp edges of; no lamps on side tables or standing in the corners. It looks more like a furnished but unoccupied dwelling, sterile of any personal effects as it is. The walls are some neutral shade of tan, the floorboards are waxed, dark wood concealing the appearance of Erwin’s dirty boot prints.

 

Erwin debates letting the boy wake up in the dog kennel, but he decides against it. He doesn't want to throw Levi into a _worse_ panic than he will already be when he gains consciousness alone and in the dark. He was awake when he was taken but unaware, and the haze from the sedatives might skew his perception for the first few minutes. When that wears off he will probably react violently, thus making getting him out of the crate more difficult.

 

He brings the kennel inside from the truck and sets it on the sturdy, old dining table because he doesn't really need to do anything else yet. According to the last dose of sedatives he injected, Levi should be out for another hour. It's been a long day, but it'll be over for him soon.

 

The basement is clean and expectant when he goes down to ready it for Levi. It's a smooth and seamless concrete hell down here, the only passage in and out a drop-down set of stairs. The cell is absent of any windows but has small vents to circulate the air. There's no bed, so Erwin leaves a sleeping bag in one corner, neatly rolled but not bound; its elastic has been removed for safety concerns. In the diagonal corner from the sleep space is an old hand well pump and a grated drain directly below it in the floor. It'll pull water up from the well, too cold for bathing but clean nonetheless.

 

Down here, Erwin won't _need_ to have Levi bound, but he decides he's going to anyway.

 

Back upstairs, Erwin opens the dog crate and drags Levi out. The boy is laid out flat on the floor while Erwin ties his wrists with nylon rope reminiscent of handcuffs. He might be able to get out of this, but it's not like he can go anywhere. Erwin checks Levi's circulation twice and then takes him into the basement.

 

There are no attempts to make Levi comfortable. Erwin sets him down in the middle of the cell and turns back around to climb out. He lifts the staircase and locks it back into place and makes sure to turn the light switch for the basement off. There’s hardly any work to be done to make this house livable as it is, and he’s content to busy himself with menial chores. What’s coming next with Levi will take all of his concentration, so he lets his mind wander freely while he works.

 

The back porch has a floodlight, and he takes to the overgrown garden to scavenge what the antelope and deer haven’t eaten. The moon keeps him company, high in the sky and drifting, only half filled but bright without the interference of the city lights. Their lonely arm of the galaxy stretches overhead. Humans are so insignificant in the scale of the universe, and yet they can’t get along and treat one another like civilised beings. No wonder the life in further reaches of the galaxy avoids contacting them.

 

Sometime in the spring, squash and other melons were planted, alongside hardy greens and tomatoes. Erwin prefers a more meat-centered diet, but he’s not scheduled to be back in the city until overmorrow, so this will have to do. There’s not even salt in the cupboards yet. He scrunches his nose and pulls weeds.

 

It’s almost two more hours before he comes back into the house and hears the muffled sound of flesh slapping against concrete. If he can hear it all the way up here, that means Levi is using excessive force. Silly boy. Erwin wonders how long he’s been awake, and thinks that maybe Levi has already started to panic. On his way to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, he flicks on the basement light switch again, and he can hear the cessation of the slapping.

 

He takes his time cleaning every crevice on his hands, making sure to get the stubborn dirt hiding beside and under his fingernails. He’ll only be replacing the grime with blood, but first impressions matter. Erwin breathes steady while he washes his hands under the tap, the water slowly coming to a substantially lacking heat, and when he’s done, he dries them on the back of his shirt. The water heater needs turning up, so he goes to do that, knowing that Levi can hear his footsteps.

 

Over the course of five minutes, Erwin makes his way around the house, pausing here and there, knowing the sound, or at least the vibration, travels down to the basement. Levi’s holding area spans the entire underside of the common areas of the house. Erwin wants to make it clear that he’s alone in the house, so he plays no tricks with his footfalls. During his seemingly leisurely walk-around, he slips into the detached and calculating mindset that he needs for this.

 

Levi was a prisoner of theirs before. He’ll probably be expecting cruelty, which he’ll get plenty of, and a torturous interrogation, of which he will get none. The boy is of no use to Erwin as he now. He needs molding, and before that he needs to be broken so that the pieces can be reshaped into something useful.

 

Erwin’s delayed long enough. He unlocks the stairs, lowers them slowly to the concrete. He’s anticipating Levi charging him, but it doesn’t happen. When he descends into the basement, Levi is over at the water pump, a slow trickle falling into his cupped palms. Ah, yes. Erwin recalls that Levi will have a splitting headache from so many doses of sedatives back to back. Erwin doesn’t have any painkillers, and even if he did, Levi wouldn’t be receiving any.

 

Levi looks at him while his cupped hands fill with water, and then the boy splashes it onto his face, smoothing his hands back through his hair. Erwin can see Levi shaking as he steps onto the floor. Levi’s been captive for eighteen hours, drugged for the majority of it, and his body’s definitely showing the stress of it.

 

Because of Levi’s predictability, Erwin knew that he would be purchasing groceries after his daily work-out, and that’s where Erwin stole him from.

 

In the golden glares of early morning sunlight, Levi had stopped outside of the storefront, halfway around the building, pausing to check his receipt, and making Erwin’s job that much easier. All the blonde had to do was move fluidly, approaching the noirette with unassuming swagger, even when Levi turned to look at him approaching. He brushed behind Levi, pinched the delicate pressure point on the boy’s neck, and swooped him up into his arms as the tension melted from his small body. Erwin didn’t even break stride as he carried Levi off.

 

Really, it had been too easily. Erwin dumped Levi’s mobile and groceries in a trashcan on the street. In the first vehicle, he had stripped Levi and changed him into a loose tee-shirt and boxers, and disposed of the rest of the boy’s possessions. On the way to the Organisation’s inconspicuous city location, he made a series of vehicle turnovers, his route then becoming untraceable. Really, _too easy._ He’d been expecting a good fight. Oh well, he hoped to get it now to make up for the morning’s childplay.

 

Levi continues to dowse himself in the cold water, as if he is trying to wake himself from a dream. Maybe that’s what this is to him. His psychiatrist had noted that the boy still suffered from recurring nightmares, but he’d gotten better and better at controlling his response. The boy is marked as _adjusted to daily life,_ after all.

 

He pushes the hair back from his face with another handful of water and opens his mouth to confirm Erwin’s assumption. “I’m going to wake up and this will be over.” Levi’s voice is rocky with disuse. He isn’t directly addressing Erwin, nor is he simply consoling himself. It falls in that odd middle ground, as if he is speaking a prophecy and putting all his eggs in the basket that it will come true. How cute. Is that how he deals with his nightmares? Well, if so, it’s admirable, but this isn’t a dream and Levi isn’t about to wake up.

 

Erwin stands passively while Levi shuts off the water pump and stands. The boy looks down at his bound wrists but doesn’t fidget with the restraints. In fact, he looks baffled.

 

“I’m going to wake up soon,” he says, quieter this time and less assured. Levi backs himself up against the wall and then slides down it, so that he’s sitting with his knees up in front of him. He rests his elbows on his knees, as if he and Erwin are just old pals catching up. Perhaps, under different circumstances, or maybe in a universe parallel to this one, that is the sum of their relationship. Not here, though.

 

Levi lifts his hands to his eyes, takes in an overly deep breath, and forces it out loudly. Erwin can see his mouth moving, _soon soon soon it’ll be over soon,_ but it’s an inaudible litany. He doesn’t do anything. If Levi thinks this is a dream he can control, Erwin is going to wait until Levi addresses him directly.

 

Or not.

 

Levi’s inaudible litany has become a series of whimpers, quickly spiralling down into panic. His hands are up over his eyes, blocking out reality, so Erwin closes half of the distance between them. Good thing he does, because suddenly, Levi throws his head back into the concrete wall behind him with a resounding crack. The boy’s eyes go wide and his mouth goes slack, but only for a moment before Erwin is lurching forward and burying his fingers in the dark hair. He pulls, dragging Levi forward onto his knees, Levi’s hands darting out barely in time to save him from breaking his nose.

 

This is real, Levi knows it now with the undeniable pain, and he reacts to Erwin’s touch just the way Erwin is expecting. Levi is still in the drug haze, he’s hungry, and now he’s got a small bloody patch on his head, so it takes very little for Erwin to sidestep the weak charge Levi makes at his knees.

 

Levi falls flat on the floor, and Erwin turns to press his boot into Levi’s nape to still him. Blasted boy is just making everything too _fucking easy_ and quite frankly, Erwin is disappointed. He looks over to the wall and the little smeared patch of dark red, shakes his head while Levi fights weakly against the pressure Erwin is using to keep him flattened.

 

Like a balloon with a needle taken to it, Levi empties suddenly and without warning. He goes limp, his limbs spread out around him in surrender. Erwin can see his back rising and falling with rapid breathing, and he counts the exhales until they last longer than a single heartbeat.

 

“Good,” Erwin says, kindly and gently, and removes his boot from Levi’s neck. He knows immediately that he’s made the wrong assumption about Levi’s physical state. What a rookie mistake, underestimating his opponent. Erwin is moving back, one foot on the floor, the other mid-air, when Levi moves like a cobra. The boy grips Erwin’s raised ankle in one hand, rolling swiftly onto his back, and knocking the back of the knee Erwin’s weight was supported with. Erwin’s not expecting it, so he goes down, but his reflexes take over for him.

 

Erwin rolls on his way down, onto his side toward Levi. They land with a grunt, Levi taking the brunt of Erwin’s weight. Erwin draws his captive up into his arms and digs his fingernails into the small, bloody wound on the back of Levi’s head, and the boy lets out an animal sound, a keening that starts through his nose and descends down into his throat and finally into his chest.

 

Levi’s eyes are open, and they’re on Erwin’s, and it sends an imaginary shiver down Erwin’s spine just how empty the stare meeting his is.

 

“Kill me, you _bastard_ ,” Levi hisses, pushing his head further back into Erwin’s nails. Levi’s teeth are grit tight against the pain-- pain that would have a lesser man screaming.

 

It’s a four-word phrase, but it tells Erwin everything he needs to know about what’s going through Levi’s head. Levi knows exactly _whose_ hands he is in, and he is jumping to the conclusion that it’s a repeat of ten years ago. But it’s not. Erwin knows now that Levi is most likely going to try and provoke him into deadly violence to escape the fate he thinks is waiting for him. All that does is make this long and drawn out, but Erwin knows it is necessary.

 

“Fuckin’ do it,” Levi spits, pushing into Erwin’s hand so hard that Erwin can feel the flesh breaking under his nails and droplets of warm blood. He doesn’t move.

 

Oh, he _underestimated_ this boy.

 

“Coward.” Levi shifts his weight around and suddenly Erwin is on his back with two small hands squeezing his throat, but not at all tight enough to harm him. Levi is waning with his head wound, regardless of his exceptional strength.

 

Erwin swats Levi’s hands and they fall away tiredly. He rolls onto his side and Levi falls off of him-- apparently forcing Erwin onto his back had taken every last bit of Levi’s strength.

 

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Levi says on an exhale and it sounds strangely like an erotic invitation. Erwin ignores him and stands, showing no weakness, brushing off as if this was nothing but a childish scuffle and he is the adult in this situation. The space between Levi’s wrists is just enough for Erwin to grab the bindings there, and he does. Levi’s hands immediately grip Erwin’s forearm, but it lacks any strength. Erwin drags him to the water pump.

 

He sits Levi up then releases his hold on the rapidly weakening boy to pump-start the spigot. A rush of cold water greets him, and he kneels behind Levi, letting water collect in his cupped hands. He splashes the back of Levi’s head while Levi sags in on himself, as if he’s going to lose consciousness, but every shock of cold water has him jerking reflexively as it hits him. Perhaps he’s on the verge of now. Erwin washes the blood from both of them, and when Levi surrenders to his touch, his head lolling back into Erwin’s grasp with a defeated sigh, Erwin whispers, “Good boy.”

 

Levi is clear as day when he says, “ _Don’t_.”

 

Erwin shuts the water off and wrings out Levi’s shaggy hair and damp shirt. It’s a tangled, dark mess, uneven as it falls down to his shoulders. Erwin minds the area around the wound and makes sure not to agitate it, keeping a hand pressed against it firmly. The bleeding is stopped and he wants to keep it that way. He’s got a field first aid kit upstairs and he knows how to sew stitches, but he would rather not have to without a local anesthetic, for both their sakes.

 

He understands just how wild and untamed this boy is. Touching him now is akin to comforting a dying animal, so Erwin takes his time and lets his hands caress. Levi hasn’t relinquished his fight by choice, that much is clear by the way his hands scrabble, desperate to form solid fists but unable to.

 

“Kill me, just kill me,” Levi pleads. He’s starting to shake now, a full body manifestation of fear and anxiety and adrenaline with no outlet. Fight-or-flight is burning through his blood vessels.

 

Erwin doesn’t say anything, only spears his fingers through Levi’s hair where Erwin knows he is disfigured, and he pushes the hair away to expose _it._ There’s a shiny, silver-pink keloid where the shell of his right ear once sat. It’s fascinating. Erwin’s never seen this kind of injury in person, and he traces it with two fingers, relishing the way the wild boy flinches from the fondling almost shyly.

 

Erwin makes a displeased _tsk_ that Levi flinches from as well. He stills as Erwin continues to explore the old injury, and when he fails to jerk away again, he’s given another praise of, “Good. Good boy.” Next, Erwin trails his hand from Levi’s ear, down his right arm to the boy’s  hand, where there are only three digits waiting for him. Erwin threads his fingers through Levi’s remaining ones, and when the boy predictably draws away, Erwin _tsk_ s again and this time completely withdraws his touch. He moves away from Levi, making it clear that he will not stand for the denial.

 

“Please,” Levi drawls, sounding desperate, asking to be put out of his misery. It looks as if he is struggling to keep himself upright, either because of his exhausted body or his exhausted mind. “I won't go through this again. Please. _Please._ ”

 

Erwin doesn’t answer. He moves them over to the floor where it’s dry and carefully maneuvers Levi into the recovery position, that oddly empty but cognitive stare on him while he does. Levi’s pupils aren’t dilated, and Erwin gambles that if Levi sleeps, the boy will be alright. He retrieves the sleeping bag, unrolls it, and folds it so that it will elevate Levi’s head a safe amount. When it’s in place, Erwin stands again. Levi watches him. Erwin stares back with another _tsk_.

 

;;;

 

Some point after Levi eventually dozed off, Erwin went back upstairs and got a few hours of sleep. It was just shy of _enough_ , but he will be okay. He knows the moment he unlocks the stairs and goes down into the basement, the adrenaline rush will keep him awake.

 

The first order of the day is to retrieve medication for Levi from his truck. The Organisation switched Levi’s tricyclic antidepressants for SSRIs, a move that Erwin is wary of. He doesn’t know what they’re thinking, but he’s going to follow orders. Besides, it’s not like he can obtain Levi’s regular prescription on his own. This is what he was given, so this is what Levi will take.

 

It’s midmorning when Erwin brings the two largest crook-neck squash from the garden. There are no kitchen knives, so he cuts them up with his gerber. There’s no ceramic eatery either, but there’s some plastic, and he tosses the heap of slices into twin bowls and microwaves them.

 

Levi is sitting up near the spigot when Erwin goes down into the holding cell. His back is against the wall and his knees are up in his chest protectively. Neither of them says anything. The blood has been clean off the wall, leaving nothing but a dark grey splotch in the concrete. The sleeping bag is rolled up loosely and back in the corner where it had been to start. In fact, the whole basement looks as if nothing had happened, save for where the blood was cleaned.

 

Erwin goes to Levi and sits criss-cross opposite him. He sets Levi’s bowl on the floor in front of him, and it piques the boy’s interest. Over twenty-four hours have passed since Erwin took him, so it’s not a wonder that he’s hungry enough for something as bland and unpromising as microwaved squash to entice him.

 

But Levi doesn’t take his offered bowl immediately. He’s watching Erwin for cues, his calculating stare shrouded with hunger. Erwin indulges in Levi’s surrender of autonomy for a moment and then starts to eat from his own bowl, so Levi follows suit, using his shaking hands-- still safely bound, though Erwin can see evidence of tampering-- to feed himself. Sharing a meal is supposed to foster intimacy, but Erwin is using this to cultivate a warped sense of attachment in Levi.

 

The wild boy finishes his portion much faster than Erwin, so he slides his half-empty bowl over to Levi, who looks up at him with uncertainty. Erwin nods permission, and Levi proceeds to devour that, too. While he does, Erwin riffles through his pockets and pulls out the two telltale orange bottles. He takes one pill from each bottle and then holds his hand out toward Levi.

 

Levi hurriedly swallows his mouthful of food and reaches out to take the pills. The valium, he takes without question, since it’s a familiar part of his routine. But the other he holds out with the intention of giving back to Erwin.

 

“I haven’t been on Prozac in years,” he volunteers when Erwin refuses to take the little green pill back. “I take Elavil.”

 

Erwin does nothing but stare back at Levi expectantly. Levi wavers and looks back down at the Prozac in his hand and then glances up at Erwin, who watches the boy, waiting, and after a moment, Levi resigns and takes it. When he goes back to finishing what little squash remains in the second bowl, Erwin says, “Good boy.”

 

Levi cringes, his hands fisting, and he turns angry eyes up at Erwin, who looks back, disinterested. “Don’t call me that.”

 

Erwin stares.

 

“I’m not your fucking pet,” Levi continues. He abandons the last few slices of mushy squash and slides the bowl back to Erwin, who shrugs and collects up everything he brought down and then stands. Levi remains seated, knees bent up protective in front of him, glaring up at Erwin but not moving. One of his bare heels is tapping the floor, bouncing with anxiety now. Somehow, though, he doesn’t move away as Erwin leans in, left hand extending toward Levi’s missing ear. Levi tenses, and Erwin pushes the hair back to expose that silver-kink keloid. Their gazes lock while Erwin caresses the old injury, neither willing to admit weakness by looking away. He lets his thumb follow the hollow of Levi’s cheek from his jaw down to his lips, passing over them once, twice, thrice, and the boy doesn’t flinch.

 

“Good boy,” Erwin says again, and Levi tears his eyes away then, casting them to the floor with something like shame radiating from him.  

 

;;;

 

Erwin wrote out a long list of shopping that some poor recruit was sent out to purchase while Erwin sat in a brief with his higher-ups. He divulges his insights as well as his plan to shape a weapon to spite the government. The Organisation is pleased that Erwin predicts this will take half the time he originally estimated. Treacherously, the issue of switching Levi’s medication is brought up, and Erwin makes a proposal that the higher-ups eagerly agree to. Erwin’s been thinking of serotonin sickness since he first encountered it while reading up on the dangers of switching antidepressants, and he’s curious to see how Levi will fair. His proposal receives whole-hearted support, given that he writes a full report for them on the effects. They’re searching for a new form of torture, and if Erwin can prove that this is it, he’s in for some sizable perks.

 

When he gets back to the mountain estate that afternoon in a truck laden with groceries and household supplies, it feels a little less desolate. Two days living on the garden reminds him why a raw vegan lifestyle was never tempting, but thankfully he can put that behind him. Among the many items he unloads are neosporin and hair ties, and he sets them together on the floor where the drop down stairs are. He’s not giddy, but he does finish putting things away quickly so that he can go down to Levi.

 

It’s been nothing from him but ‘ _good_ ’ and ‘ _good boy_ ’ and today he’s finally going to have a proper conversation with his captive. Levi’s immediately noticeable weak points were his torture wounds from all those years ago, his missing ear being the most prominent. The first time he let Erwin touch it without flinching in the slightest, he was rewarded with having his wrist bindings removed. Erwin’s ready to push the boundary again.

 

This is the only time Erwin has left the house. Is it too much too soon to hope that the sound of his footfalls filtering through the floorboards has become something of a reassurance to Levi? Was today, with his leave, a trial on the captive’s patience-- or dare he say, trust? No, Erwin decides, it's not time yet to have those expectations. Levi lets himself be touched but it's the same way a wild animal in captivity allows its caretakers to handle it.

 

Erwin's been waiting for the next fight. He doesn't want to think of himself as bloodthirsty but the lack of brawling is disappointing him on a carnal level. Instead, it's gentle exchanges. Levi tolerates Erwin's hands on him, and gets his praise for it, and then Erwin leaves. It's nothing more than coping, he can tell, by the way Levi tries to act unaffected or uninterested. But there's a poorly concealed gleam of hatred when he watches Erwin descend the drop-down stairs, present even now as Erwin ventures down into the basement.

 

The boy is patient, watching Erwin from where he’s sitting on his sleeping bag. There's nothing but mind-cracking emptiness here, and Erwin guesses that Levi sleeps the time away. It’s plausible, since Levi is taking the Prozac combined with the Valium. Today, he's going to take Levi upstairs. Leaving the holding area might reawaken that ferocity in the boy, which Erwin needs. He can't break a docile and fictitiously agreeable mind, which is the act that Levi is putting out right now. He wants to take Levi kicking and screaming because when the blood is hot and alive, it’s a thrilling hunt.

 

Erwin goes over to the hand well and beacons Levi with a wave, who comes obediently, sitting down when Erwin points at the floor. He kneels behind Levi, combing his fingers through the knotted hair gently, and pushing it aside to access the scabbing wound.

 

Erwin let Levi sleep through his concussion and so Levi seemed to rebound quickly, but his skin isn't keeping up. It had been split in a way that sutures would have been a wise move on Erwin’s part, and without the stitches, Levi must keep reopening the staggered wound. The scabs are doing a decent enough job keeping it from bleeding freely, but Erwin sees some red blood pooling in the crevice of the splits.

 

Cold water washes away the blood, neosporin goes on in thick globs, and then he continues combing the hair with his fingers. He pulls Levi’s dark, shaggy tresses up into a high ponytail and uses the hair tie he’s got stashed on his wrist to secure it there.

 

“Good boy,” Erwin says as he usually does, stands, and then he graces Levi with new words, carefully choosing not to use his name. “Come with me, boy.”

 

Levi doesn't hesitate, but he does follow skeptically. Erwin is all the way up the stairs and Levi is still standing at the bottom, his bare foot on the first step. From here, Erwin thinks that he looks nearly frightened. Levi is still clad in the t-shirt and boxers that he was changed into upon his taking and with all of his hair pulled up like that, Erwin can get a good look at him and exactly how _odd_ he really is.

 

The boy is short and thin, deceptive waifishness masking his strength. He stands with an awkwardly uneven gait, something Erwin guesses was learned after both his tibia were broken. The asymmetry of his face from the missing ear is unavoidably pronounced, no wonder he kept such distastefully ragged tresses. It's the first time Erwin realises that he keeps his right hand tucked under the left, shielding the absence of his ring and pinky fingers from prying eyes. Erwin got a brief glimpse of the scarring on Levi’s arms and back when he dressed his unconscious form, and he's curious how Levi would hold himself if Erwin scrutinised his body while he stood naked and defenceless.

 

 _Adjusted to daily life_ but still self-conscious about his appearance. Well, that gives Erwin fuel to attack, at least.

 

Levi is a skittish creature when he finally joins Erwin in the main level of the house. When the stairs are drawn back up and locked into place, the flow of the floorboards unbroken now that they are completely unassuming to the unknowing eye, it feels like turning to a new chapter. One that is, Erwin hopes, written in blood.

 

Erwin goes into the kitchen, and Levi, without any clear instruction, follows. When Erwin looks over his shoulder at his tail, Levi stops short as if he's afraid he's made a mistake, but the boy’s face gives nothing away. It's only been a few days, but when Erwin points to the table, Levi passes him to go sit down. _Oh, promising boy_. When Erwin's done rebuilding him, Levi will be obedient enough for human dressage.

 

“Look at me.” Erwin wants to see how long the boy can tolerate his scrutiny. Empty, ice blue eyes flick up to his briefly but settle on a point on the wall somewhere behind him instead. Erwin snaps his fingers, and Levi’s eyes meet his again. This time, he is obedient.

 

It’s unsettling how unnatural the boy looks in the sunlight. Translucent, almost spirit like, but feline. Not like a common housecat, though. Levi is like a hairless breed, a sphynx. He lacks the qualities usually associated with beauty, and his man-made deformities intensify that strangeness. With his hair finally pulled away, Erwin can study the sharp angles that build him: cheekbones begging for attention, starving hollows of his cheeks, nose and chin like sharp blades, the jawbone that stands apart from his neck, overly visible adam’s apple, deep suprasternal notch, protruding clavicles--  

 

“I saw you that morning,” Levi blurts. Erwin raises an eyebrow, because that didn’t take very long at all, and leans casually on the counter closest to the table. He was expecting the boy to grace him with silence for longer than a few moments, and Erwin knows now that the holding cell is working on Levi the way it should. Even people who prefer solitude begin to wither when isolated with nothing but their thoughts.

 

Levi continues. “It was you who grabbed me. I saw you, but I didn't move.”

 

“Why.”

 

Levi looks uncertain now that Erwin is involved in his retelling, but he swallows and answers. “Last week, I fucked this guy up. He was walking the same way, just like you, coming toward me.”

 

Erwin waits. This is new-- nowhere in Levi’s file was it mentioned that he’d just had a run-in. Not even Levi’s psychiatrist was aware of the altercation yet. Erwin would need to string up someone, _anyone_ , when he was back at the Organisation for missing out on valuable intel.

 

“The police department always sends Lieutenant Church-- no one else wants to deal with me.” Levi doesn’t say it with self-pity, interestingly enough, but like it’s a badge of pride. “He explained everything to this guy and got him to drop the charges. But I didn’t want to get arrested, so when I saw you, I told myself it was nothing.”

 

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance even if you had fought.”

 

“Bastard,” Levi swears, and it’s clear that having his capabilities doubted is an insult. “I’ve sent guys like you off in ambulances.”

 

“Are you prone to violence?” Erwin is utterly cool and unthreatened, already knowing the answer. The first night in the basement, being taken off guard for underestimating Levi, is too recent to let slip out of the forefront of his mind.

 

Levi’s hands fist where they mingle on the table and he slices Erwin to shreds with his eyes, asking viciously, “Wanna find out?”

 

Erwin does, because Levi is undergoing an improper and abrupt antidepressant switch, and he’s a wild card. Erwin wants to see him explode, vibrant and lively, or witness him crumble terribly. Both are a beautiful benefit to him. “How are you feeling?”

 

Levi’s hands relax for a moment before he’s tense again. He falters when he lies. “Fine.”

 

Erwin’s already partially informed of what could be unravelling in the boy’s body. “How are you feeling, _really_?”

 

Levi doesn’t answer, so Erwin doesn’t pry, because the silence is informative in itself.

 

Erwin lets Levi have a proper, hot bath while he watches. Levi’s desire to hide his body is abandoned as he settles into the water, as he breathes in the steam willingly. Erwin thinks, watching how slowly Levi allows his muscles to relax, that the boy is experiencing flu-like symptoms from the medication protocol violation.

 

No sooner than he is unwound, Levi is scraping a washcloth over his skin punishingly. The angry shade of red blooming on him has Erwin grimacing internally at how painful it will be for Levi shortly. He’s been showing his captive an aloof, detached kindness the last few days, and now it’s time to get his hands joyously dirty.  Now that Levi knows humane treatment is available from Erwin, Erwin can manipulate him that much more. He can undo Levi until Levi is desperate enough to do anything to be treated well again.

 


	2. Degradation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work with me, here

Fucking  _ finally, _ Levi is cleaning up properly, and he is starting to feel like himself again. The water from the hand well is cold and it always leaves his skin feeling greasy and soft and shit, so Levi scrapes at himself mercilessly to rid his body of the week’s worth of disgusting residue. At least, it seems like a week. Truthfully, Levi has no idea how many days have passed in the concrete room. Enough, he knows, for the small split on the back of his skull to scab over almost completely twice, and would have done so if he hadn't been picking at it. 

 

Levi has been on Prozac and Valium together in the past, but something about it this time feels… off. He feels like shit inside and out. Pieces and parts of himself that haven’t seen the light of day are reemerging. Reawakened agitation is clawing at him constantly, and so he claws at himself, digging his nails into the wound on his head until he has ripped off every fucking piece of crusty scab, then he moves on to his finger and toe nails, chewing them to bleeding nubbs. His thighs are bare now, too; he's plucked the hairs out one by one.

 

Either Levi is picking and shaking with restlessness, or he is dead to the world. He doesn’t know what time of day is  _ what _ anymore, but it feels like his meal and medication come on a consistent timetable. Shortly after he’s left alone again, and the drugs kick in, everything just… zooms out. He wakes up, however much time has passed he doesn’t know, and rolls over to vomit whatever shit is left in his stomach into the tiny grate under the water spigot. Following the heaves is another bout of sleep, this time light, too light, as if Levi is trapped in that state of  _ almost _ . After however long of fading in and out, he starts to feel restless, anxious, and so he picks at himself until a new days’ worth of goddamn medication renders him senseless again. 

 

Trying to recall how many days he's been here based on the number of doses he's been given only gives him a stinging headache. The hot bath is waking him up, but his mind is still in all fog. 

 

Dr. Zoe always has good advice about dealing with stress, but for the life of him, he suddenly can’t recall  _ any _ of that shit. It’s as if his life before the concrete room was just a dream, and he has finally woken up to a tormenting and hellish reality ruled by that fucking Blondie.

 

That  _ fucking Blondie _ who is watching Levi as he bathes. Perverted piece of shit. As soon as Levi comes across something heavy, he is going to smash that man’s head in and make a break for it. He’s going straight to the first hospital and getting himself fucking sorted out. Maybe he’s lucky and cracking his head against the wall that first day caused some kind of damage that helps him miraculously forget this whole experience.

 

It took nine years to push what  _ happened  _ so far down that he could function on a rudimentary level in normal society, but Levi doesn’t have another nine. He knows that with everything plaguing him in his brain, he won’t make it to see his thirtieth birthday. He’ll probably overdose long before that, or get tossed in the happy house and live the rest of his pathetic life in an oblivious high. 

 

Or maybe this Blondie will kill him. Preferably that. He can see it now; provoking the man so that in a split second, there's a lashing out, and Levi's dead, and the idea is delightful. 

 

Levi looks over at the fucker, in all his well-built radiance. Obviously older, strapped in strength, the epitome of an Adonis, absolutely made of marble, this man. And those eyes, goddamn, he meets them and Blondie looks right back and he can't stop himself from swallowing dryly.

 

Too bad he's a psychopath. The spike of lust is instantly dowsed. 

 

Levi turns his attention back to his legs, scraping the washcloth over them as he makes his way to his groin. He doesn’t care that Blondie is watching, a clean body takes priority over modesty right now. Snaking another glance over, Levi realises that Blondie isn’t even aroused by this, and that troubles him more than he thinks it should. Up until now, he’s been treated like an animal. Like a goddamn animal in  _ training _ . Praised for letting the man touch him, scolded otherwise, as if this fucker really thinks that Levi will start seeking to  _ please  _ him. Ridiculous. Levi is going to find a way out of here no matter what, even if it kills him, but why--

 

“Hm?”

 

Levi looks over, feeling venomous for having his train of thought interrupted. “What do you want?”

 

“You scoffed.” Blondie readjusts his position against the sink, crossing his arms across his massive chest, the flexor carpi standing out proudly like fucking eagles. “I don’t understand what you think there is to be scoffing at.”

 

“Oh?” Levi rests one elbow on the side of the tub and leans over it, batting his eyelashes and mocking, in a sweet sing-song voice, “I’m so sorry that I offended you, however can I make it up to you?” When Blondie says nothing, Levi sits back and spits harshly, “You shithead, you ‘ _ don’t understand _ ’? Just fuck off.”

 

To his credit, Blondie doesn’t react outwardly. Levi searches his face as his words hang between them, and he sees that his gaze isn’t being met, so he resumes his washing, running a bar of soap over his scalp and skin. Nothing transpires between them for the remainder of the bath, but Levi’s thoughts are scrambles from being interrupted, and now there’s nothing but run-ons and fragments flying through his head. He can’t string together coherent thoughts now, so he gives up and focuses on the moment. It’s calming, grounding, taking it one second at a time. He relishes it.

 

“I’m done,” Levi announces as he folds the washcloth and sets in on the faucet of the bathtub. Blondie hasn’t moved since he crossed his arms. It frustrates Levi now, being monitored like this by someone so seemingly disinterest, when Levi  _ fucking knows _ that he is being studied. 

 

“I’m  _ done _ ,” he says a second time, hissing it now. Still, no movement, no change in his sentry. Levi swears and flicks the stopper to let the water out. He’s not gonna stand up and display himself to this man now that he feels like himself again, so Levi sits in the tub as the water drains out around him. If this is some game, some test of wills, Levi is determined not to lose. He’s not going to show he’s weak in any way. Setting his jaw defiantly, he stares up at the Blondie, waiting for the other man to make the first move. 

 

Eventually, Blondie pushes off the sink and leaves the small bathroom, and Levi takes the opportunity to bolt from the tub to the towel hook, taking down the plush towel and wrapping it around his body. He dries off in seconds and loops the towel on his shoulders, content just to be covered again. 

 

Blondie comes back and tosses Levi another t-shirt and set of boxers identical to the ones he’s been in all week. Levi scrabbles to catch the clothing without dropping the towel, and succeeds momentarily before the towel slides down his shoulders and pools on the floor. Automatically, Levi curls his body inward as he stoops to collect the towel, but he’s halted by a command.

 

“Get dressed, boy.”

 

“I’m not a fucking  _ boy, _ you cunt,” Levi sneers and picks up the towel anyway, overly conscious of the myriad of marks making a home on his skin and wanting them out of sight. He maneuvers it over his shoulders single-handedly, and then turns around to slip on the clothing. The boxers first. This pair is too large for him, so he folds the waistband down several times until they don’t continuously threaten to slide from his hips. Blondie leaves the cramped bathroom again as Levi bunches up the shirt and pokes his head through, lets the towel fall, then pushes his arms through, and pulls it down, and finally returns the towel to its hook. 

 

Levi catches his reflection in the mirror and pauses. God, he looks fucking sick. His patchy-ass stubble is reminiscent of mange, too. The bar of soap took most of the grease out of his hair, but it still hangs limply down to his shoulders where little droplets of water fall and catch in his shirt. He can’t stop himself, though, as he lifts the hair back from the right side of his face. What does this Blondie find so captivating about his missing ear? Levi holds his hair up on the one side, examining the way he looks, the unevenness, the alien-like resemblance, trying to understand.

 

There’s movement behind him, and two crystalline eyes meet his in the mirror, and Levi drops his hand like a child caught in the cookie jar. Blondie makes no acknowledgement of what he saw. 

 

“Are you hungry?” It’s not unkind, though not warm either. “It's been a while.”

 

“No shit.” 

 

“Language, boy.”

 

“Tch.” Levi moves to brush past the man and leave the bathroom, but a firm grip on his forearm jerks him back. Instinctively, Levi twists to use his free arm, a jab at the ready, but Blondie catches the attempt in a fist twice the size of Levi’s and bends Levi’s wrist awkwardly.

 

Fuck, it burns,  _ fuck _ , but Levi lets out nothing more than little huffs of air through his nose, his teeth grit tight against the pain. Blondie lets him go, and Levi takes a step back unconsciously, regretting it when he sees the way Blondie’s head crooks to the side fractionally. 

 

“Put your hair back up.”

 

“ _ Jesus _ , that’s all you had to fucking say, you violent ape.” Levi takes the hair tie from his own throbbing wrist where he’d put it to bathe and twists his hair up into a loose knot, secures it. “Happy now?”

 

“Yes. Good boy.” Blondie reaches out but Levi steps out of his reach with a flinch, his calves hitting the edge of the tub in the small bathroom. That shithead just smiles victoriously before he leaves, and Levi’s blood boils for his own failures.

 

In the golden evening glow falling through the windows, Levi seats himself in the chair at the head of the oblong dining table so that he can keep his eyes on his captor. The chairs are sturdy, the kind of sturdy that  _ kills, _ and it strikes him with a morbid glee _. _ They're heavy, so he won't be able to sneak quickly, but all he needs is enough surprise, enough time to build up the momentum for his swing--

 

“You're growling.” Blondie turns around and he's holding a cast iron skillet non-threateningly. “Thinking of how to incapacitate me?”

 

One of the corners of Levi's mouth lifts in a sneer, but he doesn't answer. 

 

“Put aside your misplaced contempt and have a decent meal. Behave, or you’ll go back into the basement for three days.” The man faces the stove and the heavy skillet clanks down on the burner grate. 

 

Levi’s nostrils flare at being  _ commanded _ like that.  _ Behave. _ As if he's just a dog. Before he even registers what he's doing, he is standing, making his way to that asshole without any plan of attack, and then he stops suddenly, hands gripping the back of a chair. 

 

What  _ is _ he going to do?

 

For all Levi knows, this place is under surveillance. Or there are more people. Just because the Blondie is the only one Levi has seen doesn't exclude others from being involved. After all, this guy is from the Organisation and the Organisation takes no chances. The only reason Levi escaped the first time was thanks to his no-good, double-crossing bastard uncle, a man who disappeared a week later and was found floating in the reservoir. It didn't take a genius to figure out  _ why _ . 

 

So does he go for it? Does he engage the Blondie and hope that he gets his lights knocked out for good? Does he kill this man and hope for an  _ escape _ ? Does that freedom last for a moment before he's flogged by other Organisation members and dies the way he watched his mother die ten years ago? With his guts spilling onto the floor and his throat slashed, his head hanging by the column of his spinal cord? 

 

_ Oh god… Mom… _

 

Levi's pause is long enough for Blondie to look over his shoulder and for his eyes to flash with anticipation, but the moment is lost, Levi has lost the surprise that he was counting on, so he stands there, white knuckles on the back of the chair, and he looks down at his feet, trying to rid himself of the images pushing through the thick fog in his brain, as fresh and full-colour as if his mother was on the floor before him  _ now _ because if he doesn't, he's going to scream and--

 

“What's going on in that head of yours?”

 

Levi looks up at the man when he speaks but the words aren't registering, and he wants to breathe deep and break the shackles binding his lungs but he can't, Levi can't breath at all, all he can see is his mother being cut open by big men with big knives who enjoy the way she screams, the same men who cut bits and pieces from Levi and promise not to be stingy the second time around, when his whore mother is dead and he's for dessert--

 

“Come back to the present.”

 

The fog dissipates and Levi's standing there with the Blondie  _ too close _ to him. 

 

It’s overwhelming and Levi reacts to that stress on an instinctual level. One hook Blondie avoids, catching it in his overbearingly large fist, and Levi’s second attempt to uppercut the underside of the man’s jaw is captured, too. He looks down at Levi, disappointment drenching his expression. 

 

“One more swing and you're going back.” Blondie tugs Levi’s hands, causing Levi to stumble forward against him, fall into his chest, and continues, “Three days without food or drugs. Is that what you want?”

 

_ Yes. _ Maybe three days without medication will overwhelm him so much that he’ll pick away at the the skin of his forearms and expose the veins there and bite into them and end his own life. 

 

_ No.  _ Maybe the Blondie means to keep him as a pet, as a trophy. What's the harm in waiting this out? Is Levi making all of this harder than it has to be?

 

_ Yes. _ Levi has more pride than to roll over and pretend to be a plaything. 

 

_ No _ , his self-preservation whispers like tendrils of smoke worming into his brain.  _ No, just wait it out _ . _ There will be another way to escape this _ . 

 

So Levi deflates, goes limp in Blondie’s grasp, and the other man accepts him gingerly and holds Levi against his chest. Levi is only vaguely aware that his hands have been released, doesn't completely comprehend the fact, until two strong hands pull his face back and he is looking up into Blondie’s eyes. 

 

It's intimate, as if they were lovers and Levi were seeking comfort, but that intimacy is an illusion. This isn’t something he chose. This man isn’t his beloved, and he is not this man’s. No. Levi is kept against his will. He didn’t choose this man, doesn’t want these arms around him even now.

 

_ This  _ is real, though, no matter how he would convince himself for it to be a dream. 

 

Levi isn't going to wake up from this and roll onto the other side of his bed where the sheets are cool. This is it. This will be the end of him, at this man’s hands, whether tonight or tomorrow or ten years from now. His own death will not be his decision. 

 

“I give you everything you need, and you want to hit me?” Blondie guides him back to his chair and sits him down, standing behind him with two hands on his shoulders and Levi slumps under the touch. Shame is crawling across his cheeks but he doesn't understand why. He didn't ask for any of this. He didn't ask to be stolen and thrown in a concrete room, fed and medicated on a schedule, treated like an animal. But those words, the disappointment that coats them, the disappointment Levi saw in his eyes just a minute ago… Levi feels embarrassed for his actions. 

 

_ Why? _ he wonders. Of course he didn't ask for this to happen, but why would he bite the hand that feeds him?

 

_ To survive _ . Survive what? This man hasn't hurt him yet.  _ My wrist, he bent it back though _ . No, that's not right. Anytime Levi had experienced pain at that Blondie’s hands, it's because Levi was acting as the aggressor. Down in the basement, after the bath-- each time Levi lashed out and he was punished.  _ I deserve it when he punishes me, _ he tells himself somberly. 

 

But… why? Why  _ Levi, _ why  _ now _ ? Of all the people the Organisation could target? Is he just a trophy because of who he is and what he experienced; is that why the Blondie finds such fascination with Levi’s disfigurement? 

 

Two little pills make themselves known on the table in front of him. Without thinking, Levi scoops them up and swallows them dry, and before he can stop himself, he murmurs, “Thank you.”

 

_ ‘I give you everything you need _ ….’

 

The phrase echoes in his head. Levi hates to admit it but it's true. He's being fed regularly, he has access to water, a place to sleep. Blondie could have treated him much worse. There are no indications that  _ repayment _ of the physical variety is expected either and Levi finds that easing. 

 

“You’re welcome,” Blondie says from his place at the stove. The chains that loop around Levi’s lungs and restrict his breathing are broken with that, and Levi inhales deeply. He feels suddenly tired, drowsy with relief, so he crosses his arms on the table and lays his head down on them for just a moment, until he can collect his thoughts.

 

The unique clap of plastic on wood makes him jolt. Levi raises his head, overcome with a rush of vertigo, and rubs his eyes until he doesn’t feel like he’s spinning. 

 

“There you are.”

 

Levi cracks one eye in the direction of the baritone and realises that he’s fallen asleep. Whatever sunlight previously filtering through into the house is gone, replaced by the artificial light from overhead. Oh. He slept for some time. When the vision in his open eye stops circling, he can get a good look at his captor.

 

The Blondie is leaning back in the chair caddy-corner to Levi’s, a thick, black leather journal in his hands. There’s an empty plate pushed into the middle of the table, and Levi realises that there’s a plate directly in front of him. Upon pulling it closer, the lack of warmth becomes apparent. 

 

No clocks are visible, so Levi asks, “How long was I out?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Blondie says, eyes still glued to what he’s reading. A page turns and Levi can see that it’s handwritten and the script is naggingly familiar. “You should eat something.”

 

It’s a breakfast spread gone cold, but it’s not bland fruits or vegetables, and Levi can’t help the way he starts to salivate. Cold bacon and eggs, toast soaked with butter, a whole sausage, and fried mushrooms-- Levi feels ecstatic. Even without utensils, he tucks into it without further ado, all eight fingers quickly becoming greasy and sticky. Halfway through, the thought that it might be poisoned snakes through his conscience, but it doesn’t stop him. If this is his last meal, at least it’s a good one. Every morsel is consumed; he would lick the plate if not for manners. About as soon as he’s finished and sits back in his chair, he feels the troublesome, telltale  _ lurching  _ in his stomach.

 

“You overdid it.” Blondie closes the journal and lays it down on the table so that he can look at his captive. Levi swallows, willing himself not to be sick, but every breath he takes feels like it’s raising his stomach higher and higher until the organ feels ready to fall out of his mouth. Delicately, not to exacerbate the issue, he stands and makes it to the kitchen sink before it happens. Both hands grip the counter excessively tight while his body rids itself of its perceived invasion until he’s slumping forward, barely holding himself up anymore. Disgusting. 

 

Weakly, he pats around for the handle of the faucet to wash away the putrid chunks of his undigested meal, but a warm and sturdy hand covers his own shaking, clammy one and beats him to it. Levi looks up, tilting his head to the side, trying to keep his face impassive.

 

“Enthusiastic, now, katze?”

 

Levi’s eyebrows scrunch at the phrase, asking, “What the hell does that mean?”

 

“‘ _ Katze _ ’?” One of the Blondie’s hands slips around the back of Levi’s neck, holding  _ just _ too tightly, the other testing the temperature of the water as it flows from the tap. “It’s a German word.”

 

“I know what the fuck ‘ _ katze _ ’ means.” Levi tries to erect himself but the hand on his nape secures him with one cheek resting on the cold sink basin. He gives the man his most murderous, threatening glare. “Why the hell are you calling me a cat?”

 

Blondie betrays nothing, cups a handful of water, and splashes it onto Levi’s face. The man proceeds to wash Levi of his vomit-- tenderly? or is Levi  _ losing his mind _ ?-- before he says, “I think it’s apt for a stray like you.”

 

“Fuck off,” Levi says, feeling the anger rise through his chest. He’s not an animal, he’s not a stray, and he sure as hell doesn’t belong to this man. Who the hell does Blondie think he is, to lay such a claim on Levi as to call him like a goddamn  _ pet _ ? 

 

Blondie only hums in response, finishing up his task. “Are you always sick after you wake up?”

 

Although Levi doesn’t want to tell his man anything, he finds himself saying, “Yeah, it goes on for a while. But it only started since I’ve been here.”

 

The man nods thoughtfully and releases Levi, who slowly stands straight, unsure what to do next. For a moment, they stand at the sink watching one another. There’s a window over the sink, the scent of stomach acids still strong in the kitchen, so Levi leans over to unlock it and open it, welcoming the swell of cool night air that pushes in when he does.

 

The window must face the backyard, and in the permeating wash of moonlight, Levi can make out an overgrown garden. Vines crawl up and over the humble chicken wire fencing, proving their untamability regally. The stars are bright-- brighter than Levi has ever seen them, and then his guts go cold. 

 

Where are they? How far out in the countryside are they, that the god-given night light is so luminous? 

 

Blondie goes back to his seat at the table. He looks at Levi, and Levi feels compelled to follow, beaconed by some unknown force that he doesn’t understand. When they’re both seated, the journal is pushed over to Levi, who picks it up but doesn’t open it. The leather is familiar, achingly so, but he can’t pinpoint why. He feels like he should recognise it, feels frustrated that he  _ does _ but  _ doesn’t _ , so he flips it open to skim the well-known penmanship. It’s only when he encounters a scribble of his name that he freezes. 

 

“Doctor Zoe,” Blondie volunteers, as if telepathically connected. “Did you know she works with us?”

 

Levi slaps the journal shut. “You’re lying.”

 

Blondie shrugs and drops the topic at that. Curious though, Levi reopens the journal and actually reads the words there. Shit, it’s hers, alright. But that doesn’t mean she is with the Organisation. This could have been stolen. This could be Blondie trying to make Levi doubt his entire reality, to make his perception crumble and burn. 

 

For the most part, Dr. Zoe’s notes are impartial, clinical. Abridged retellings of Levi’s accounts. His nightmares. Fears. Triggers. Her inferences and diagnoses. Any changes in Levi’s prescriptions, dated addendums with his reactions to the medications. It’s all in here, from his first visit to the most recent one. 

 

“What day is it today?”

 

Blondie evades answering directly. “You’ve missed your weekly appointment if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

Levi flips to the end of the filled pages. Dr. Zoe is going on about a weapon, a blade, and the ways to recondition it. It’s long words, medical words that he doesn’t understand, written in chains and ladders like instructions. One name keeps jumping out at him, the name of someone she seems to be consulting with, a name that popped up starting a couple months’ entries ago. 

 

“Who is Erwin?” Levi asks, testing out the name. 

 

Blondie corrects him, pronouncing it with a  _ ‘v’ _ in place of the  _ ‘w’ _ that Levi used. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Levi’s heart thuds in his chest and he looks back into the journal. He knows his captor’s name now, and it makes him feel… vulnerable. He realises that Erwin, this Blondie, is a person, with a name, and a history outside of all this. It was so much easier to think of him by his descriptor, but his name makes him...  _ human. _

 

“ _ Erwin _ .” Levi tests the correct pronunciation quietly, his teeth kissing his bottom lip in the ‘v’ delicately. 

 

Blondie-- Erwin hums. Both men sit quietly, Levi reading and Erwin watching Levi read. He’s overly aware of the eyes on him, making gooseflesh of his skin and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The last page of Dr. Zoe’s journal is a mix of two handwritings: hers a chicken scratch, the other fluid waves of ink. It reads like comparisons, but Levi doesn’t remember learning any of this shit in biology and he doesn’t understand any of the words. Closing the journal, he passes it back to Erwin. 

 

“Does Doctor Zoe really work with--”

 

“Yes.” Erwin looks dead ahead while he speaks. “She was only a resident at the time of your incident, but with our Organisation’s covert sway, she was allowed to take you on. It was good publicity for her and her associates to have you, the child in the eyes of the nation, receiving your care there. Her graduate school became accredited, money poured in, and it brought about a much-needed program for underprivileged students.”

 

“Should I feel  _ good _ about that?” Levi means for it to sound condescending, but it comes over as innocently inquisitive. 

 

“If you’d like.” Erwin looks at him, and Levi folds under the weight of that piercing blue gaze.

 

“Whatever,” he mutters. This man is crazy if that’s his logic. But that’s not surprising, he’s a terrorist. The Organisation is a terror group, and Levi is in their custody, and he-- he feels sick again. He makes his way back to kitchen sink and braces himself against it before the heaving starts. 

 

Erwin comes over to rub his back while he strains against the violent reeling of his stomach, and between waves, Levi feels himself sinking into the touch. He doesn't want to, shouldn't want to, because he hates this man and his Organisation and the way they've torn Levi's life to shreds. This man claims that Dr. Zoe has been on  _ their _ side this whole time, and the accusation peels the skin back from his body and exposes his vulnerable insides.  _ This man is lying _ , Levi tells himself, but even still, this man is running his knuckles over the notches of Levi's spine while Levi gasps and chokes and vomits. 

 

“It's a shame,” Erwin says as Levi rinses his mouth out with tap water, “that your mother didn't cooperate the way she should have. You could have been spared from all of this.”

 

Levi stills except to shut off the faucet. He looks out of the window, into the garden with its unapologetically wild vines, and then a little further up to steal a look at Erwin in the reflection bouncing off of the window. It's distorted, but Erwin is looking right back at Levi. 

 

Instead of turning back south at Levi's first thoracic vertebra, Erwin’s hand continues upward, feather light, until his index finger is brushing at the scar of Levi's removed ear. Those eyes leave the window pane as he leans down and presses his mouth chastely to that old wound, and Levi can't help but shiver. 

 

Erwin’s hands land on Levi’s shoulders as Erwin stands tall again. The space between his back and the other’s front is nonexistent, but Levi is determined not to lean into the embrace. It’s not so hard when, from Erwin’s mouth comes, “She had no regard for you, her own  _ son _ , and look what she let happen to you.”

 

“She didn’t do  _ this _ to me,” Levi says sharply. “It was your psychotic friends who cut me up like this.” 

 

Erwin’s thumbs knead into Levi’s shoulders. “They followed orders because your mother would rather protect her government than her child.”

 

“My mother did what was right.”

 

“‘ _ Right _ ’? Oh, katze, you weren’t even supposed to be brought to us with her, did you know that?” Erwin twists Levi around so that they’re chest to chest, keeping Levi prisoner with his large hands gripping the sink on either side of Levi’s waist. A smirk on his fucking face, fucking _ bastard. _ “She knew we were coming for her, and she used our own creed against us.”

 

“Criminals like  _ you _ have no creed,” Levi spits. 

 

“We don’t kill children.”

 

“Oh, but you fuck them up, though, don’t you?” Levi wants to crack him across the face for spewing such bullshit from his piece of shit mouth. He wants to make Erwin bleed for the sins of every Organisation member. “You motherfuckers cut me up and tortured me but, hey, I’m  _ alive _ , right?”

 

“Your mother thought that as long as she kept you by her side, we couldn’t touch her. And then the order came down to seize her regardless, so you were a bonus.” 

 

“Liar.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“ _ Yes _ .”

 

“Katze--”

 

“Don’t,” Levi shoves against Erwin’s chest and the man backs up two steps, his large hands open and spread, placating. “Don’t  _ fucking _ call me that. My name is Levi.  _ Levi. Ackerman _ . Kuchel Ackerman was my mother and she died trying to protect me from  _ you _ .”

 

“Me?” Erwin splays one hand over his chest, daring to look insulted underneath his shit-eating grin. “Her decision making really wasn't the best, then, was it? But that's not a surprise; you Ackermans are all inbred. She probably lacked the capacity.”

 

How dare this man mock his mother. The woman who raised him alone when his father walked out, the woman who sacrificed her own comforts to provide for him, the woman who with her dying breath said ‘ _ I love you’ _ as her intestines spilled out of her body. Levi sees red, his fuse blows, and--

 

Levi startles, jerking out of the sensation of falling. Prone on the kitchen floor, he aches. A touch to his throbbing lip comes away with blood as he curls one arm under his head to cushion it. 

 

A pair of white socks pad into view, and Levi cranes his neck to gaze up at Erwin. However, Erwin makes it easy on him, bending a knee before his captive. One of his brows is split, the eye under it a mottling purple, and Levi understands that he blacked out and attacked.

 

“I warned you, boy.”

 

Levi rests his cheek back on his arm in defeat. Ah. That’s right.

 

“I warned you, one more swing and you’d go back down into the basement.”

 

Levi closes his eyes. His surrender feels so out of place, so unlike him, but he can’t speak up. He can’t react otherwise. It’s as if he’s a stringless puppet and he doesn’t understand how.

 

“I’ve given you everything you need, and you lash out because I told you an unfortunate truth? That’s ungrateful.” Erwin pats Levi’s cheek, and Levi realises that he is warm and red with humiliation. But why? Is it because of Erwin’s disappointed tone? Because Erwin is still touching him gently even though Levi gave him a black eye? Does Levi honestly believe in Erwin’s words, and does it even fucking matter?

 

;;;

 

It is either the second morning or afternoon when the anxiety sets in. 

 

The house above him is silent long before he begins the endeavour of counting to one thousand, and now he's done and there's still no sound filtering down from above. 

 

It starts controllable, deniable. Everything is okay. Levi will be okay. To busy his mind, he plucks the hairs from the tops of his toes, one by one, each a moment, until he’s out of moments to count. Everything is okay. Erwin said three days. He’ll come for Levi soon.

 

But, what if something has happened? What if Erwin is dead? What if Levi is forgotten down here? What’s it like to starve to death? Will his body ever be found or will this be his tomb? No… no no no. Erwin said three days. He’ll come for Levi soon.

 

It starts controllable, deniable. Everything is okay. Levi will be okay. He stretches his body, using movement to eat up the anxiety eating away at him. It’s a good waste of time. Deep stretches, until he’s sore and shaky. How long ago did he eat? A day, now? And he hasn’t eaten much in years. His body doesn’t have much fat in its reserves. Antidepressants do that to him, rob him of an adequate appetite. He should conserve his energy; three days is a long time to run on fumes.

 

Several times he catches his heart thumping in his chest, that hollow void threatening to run up his spine and consume his brain. What if he dies down here? What if Erwin leaves him here? What if he never comes out?

 

No. No! No. Erwin said three days. He’ll come for Levi soon. 

 

Won’t he? The house above him as been quiet for too long. How much time has past now? Levi unrolls the sleeping bag and curls up on it, the unforgiving concrete pushing his shoulders off kilter as he assumes the fetal position. No, that’s not right. He should lay in the recovery position. Just incase something happens in his sleep. That way he won’t smother. That way he won’t choke on his vomit. 

 

What if he never wakes up? Is this really all his life will have been? Will his body be found? Will he be buried properly? How long does the brain stay alive to shut down after the heart stops? Will he really watch his life like a movie before it goes black forever? What is death like?

 

No. He’s firm with himself. Erwin said three days. He’ll come for Levi soon-- won’t he? 

 

“Yes.” Levi nods to himself. “He’s coming for me. He won’t forget me.”

 

He doesn’t realise that he’s nodded off until he’s pulled from that fitful sleep by creaking. Creaking! From above! Erwin!

 

Erwin’s okay. Erwin hasn’t left him here alone. Erwin said three days. He’ll come for Levi soon. Levi rolls onto his stomach and pulls himself up carefully, mindful of the nausea washing over him. He goes to the drain just incase. 

 

When the heaving is over, Levi washes himself, remembering the way it felt to have Erwin do so. He feels so stupid, so ashamed for hurting Erwin, when Erwin has been nothing but kind with him. Levi didn’t ask to be abducted, but Erwin isn’t hurting him, isn’t torturing him, so is it really so bad? He feeds Levi, gives Levi medication. Levi should be grateful. 

 

Erwin was so disappointed in him. Levi is disappointed in himself, too. He shouldn’t be so difficult. Erwin’s not asking anything in return for his kindness.

 

Levi lays on his sleeping bag, reveling in the creaking of the floorboards from above and the unmitigated comfort it brings. He’s not alone. If anything happens to him, he’s not alone. He won’t be forgotten down here. Erwin said three days. He will come for Levi soon. 

 

Levi sleeps a little deeper to the cacophony of the creaking. 

 

;;;

 

It’s the third day now, isn’t it?

 

Levi can’t be sure. He’s counted to  _ one thousand  _ several times. The creaking comes and goes, the time in between being the worst. Everything is okay-- isn’t it?-- though his breathing is laboured and it feels like his chest is squeezing so tight and death is right there staring him in the face because he could die, Levi could die at any moment and he’s petrified by that black void, that unknown that is death, the topic of poetry and religion and even love, love which claims to be never-ending but the love Levi’s mother had for him died along with her because love is useless in the grave and oh god he can’t breath, he can’t--

 

“Erwin….”

 

Levi gasps against the chains pulling his lungs tightly enough to collapse them, because Erwin said three days and he should come for Levi soon.

 

“Erwin….”

 

Levi groans through his heaving, his stomach so painfully empty and the bile burning horribly. He longs to have Erwin’s knuckles drumming over his spine like that night, that night that Levi was so stupid as to attack Erwin, when Erwin gives him everything he needs.

 

“Erwin….”

 

Levi grits his teeth as he scratches at his sides. He’s dizzy, so dizzy, and he wonders if this is what dying feels like-- oh god is he dying, is this the end, what happens in death, what is that void, will he see his mother is she watching him now he doesn’t want to die death is final it is finite it is unknown and he’s afraid he’s so afraid of what comes next will he look down on his body and go to heaven or hell or purgatory does it matter he just wants to see his mother again to have her arms around him he is so alone he’s alone he’s alone he’s alone he’s dying this is the end of his miserable life there is no escape he is dying alone he is dying alone he is--

 

“ERWIN!”

 

It rips itself through his throat. Erwin said three days. He should have come for Levi by now. Maybe Levi was wrong. Maybe Erwin really will leave him alone down here, and this is the end, this is it, he’s going to die--

 

_ Creak _ . A single, blessed sound. 

 

“ERWIN,  _ PLEASE _ !”

 

_ Creak _ . Coming closer.

 

“ERWIN!” Levi can’t stop the keening once it starts. Erwin said three days and Levi just wants to come out. He’s sorry, he’s so sorry for being so ungrateful.

 

His legs shake as he stands, he’s dizzy and hungry and oh so desperate to know that he won’t be left down here to die. Levi knows exactly where the stairs touch the basement floor at, doubles over like prayer just  _ there _ when he can’t hold himself up anymore because he’s dizzy and hungry and Erwin said three days and he should be coming for Levi any minute now so that he doesn’t die alone--

 

_ Creak _ . Closer still. 

 

His cries devolve into something shrill. Maybe Erwin’s name or his mother’s name or an apology, it doesn’t matter. He can hear the weight of a body as it makes its way closer to Levi, and Levi feels closer to redemption with every step. 

 

By the time the stairs start to lower, Levi’s shrieks are so forceful that his eardrums and his body quake with the power of it. It dies abruptly at the sound of feet heavy on the stairs, and Levi is nothing but a shuddering puddle on the concrete, so thankful, so grateful that he hasn’t been left, he hasn’t been forgotten, he’s not going to die down here alone.

 

A strong hand cups his jaw, a thumb brushes over the scar of his missing ear. Levi dares, he dares to look up, and through the tears sitting stubbornly in his eyes, he sees Erwin. Erwin with his black eye fading to normalcy and a new wash of guilt hits Levi. Erwin said three days, and Erwin has come for him, even after Levi decked him.

 

“I didn’t leave you, katze,” Erwin coos as he cradles Levi’s cheek. “You are my stray. I took you in when no one else wanted you. I’ll take care of you.”

 

Levi loses his will. He crumples in on himself, throaty ‘ _ thank you _ ’s looping. A chastely comforting kiss marks his forehead, and Levi feels so ashamed,  _ so ashamed _ for defying this man who has only shown him kindness, has given him everything he needs. Strong hands lift his chin up. A finger asks permission against Levi’s lips, and he lets his mouth fall open. Two pills are deposited on his tongue, and Levi swallows them without question. Erwin gives him everything he needs, Levi needs rest, and this will help. 

 

“Thank you, Erwin,  _ thank you, _ ” he whispers, doubling over at the man’s feet and weeping. Thick fingers push through Levi’s hair, petting him, guiding him down into oblivion.

 

;;;

 

Levi doesn’t jerk awake, instead his consciousness seeps through the fog of sleep slowly. His body is heavy and sore, but resting on something soft that cushions his bones. One eye opens, and he’s not in the basement anymore, the realisation brings about a flood of memory, and he sinks into the soft embrace even further. 

 

That’s right. Erwin retrieved him, gave him medication, and brought Levi up here, into the room across from the bathroom. He’d looked at this door when he’d bathed, wondering what was behind it. Now he knows. It’s the sole bedroom in this little house out in the countryside, and it must be Erwin’s, of course. Levi rolls as best he can, one wrist handcuffed to the metal framing at the head of the bed, and settles for looking over his shoulder to take in the room. 

 

The blinds are down and the curtains are pulled closed, but the sunlight is so vibrant. It’s a south-facing window, then, with the bed on the wall opposite it. 

 

It’s a little room but it’s packed with stacks of books. It occurs to Levi that being out here is boring for Erwin, and somehow he feels responsible for it. The silver gleam of a laptop peaks out from under a neat stack of papers, and he thinks that maybe it’s not  _ so  _ boring. 

 

Besides, judging by the patterns of Erwin’s activity over the last few days, Levi knows that the blondie doesn’t spend all day milling about. He leaves, he goes somewhere, and he’s always gone for hours. Logically, Levi knows, because they must be miles out from civilisation. Partly, Levi thinks,  _ because _ of him. 

 

That… saddens him.

 

Levi can feel the sinking of his stomach and the rising of heat across his cheeks when he thinks about Erwin’s disappointment. The covers are warm as he pulls them up to his chin, and then over his head, as if hiding from daylight can erase the humiliation. It’s warm, so warm under here, the red sheets like a womb, and the beating of his own heart in his ears pulls him under again.

 

The next time he stirs, it’s to a weight on the bed at his side and a rush of cool air as the cocoon of Levi’s makeshift womb is pulled open. He blinks several times, the room dimmer with dusk now. “Erwin,” tumbles from his mouth before his vision even clears. 

 

“You need to eat.” Erwin reaches over him and unlocks the handcuffs, and Levi rubs the newly-freed wrist. He’s been tossing in his sleep; the skin is angry from being pulled against the metal. The injury doesn’t escape Erwin’s attention, and he takes it in his hands, so large that Levi feels dwarfed compared to them, which is ridiculous. Levi is a grown-ass man. 

 

Erwin pulls Levi up into a sitting position, and the vertigo is almost too much to handle. 

 

“Easy, easy,” Erwin soothes, holding Levi steady. It’s embarrassing, but necessary. Levi’s last meal was days ago, and even then, he’d vomited most of it into the sink that night. 

 

Levi all but collapses into the chair at the head of the table, and there are three pills awaiting. Is it really time for another dose? Has he been sleeping for a whole day? Levi wants to ask, but he doesn’t, simply accepts that Erwin gives him what he needs. This isn’t any different. The Valium and Prozac go down dry, and Levi picks up the last one to examine it.  _ Zofran _ . Oh. That’s right. Erwin had stroked Levi’s back as he vomited after his meal, and asked if Levi was always sick like that, and now Erwin has gone and gotten Levi something to remedy that. The little white tablet goes under his tongue, and Levi waits patiently, fighting the wave of  _ calm _ from the Valium to stay awake, watching Erwin move through the kitchen. 

 

Fighting sleep gets easier the longer he holds on, and soon the urge dissipates. Levi watches as Erwin makes spaghetti, something Levi absolutely hates, but he’s not going to complain. A heaping bowl of the shit is placed in front of him along with a hair tie. 

 

Levi pulls his hair into the high bun Erwin seems content with, and it feels a little less odd having his face and neck on display like this. He’s not scarred here except for the keloid of his ear. The burns and cuts start on his shoulders, stubbornly rough and unsmooth despite the decade that has passed. Perhaps he will show those off to Erwin as well, see if they repulse or allure him. Levi has never flaunted the evidence of his torture, but he wants to lay himself bare before Erwin and offer up his body, whether for praise or abashment at Erwin’s discretion. 

 

;;;

 

Tossing an antiemetic into Levi’s regiment did wonders for his vigor. With food staying put, he was  _ recovery _ embodied. The scabs on his head sealed over with fresh skin and his finger and toe nails started to grow a little stronger a little faster. That ever-present fog even burned away, leaving him thinking clearly again.

 

Out of the basement, seemingly for good, he could time the days by the angles of the sunlight and shadows, and count the passing time by the nights. There was not much in the house to do, and with Erwin’s supervision he was allowed outside. He liked to go and sit in the garden because he could pretend it was privacy, even with Erwin standing by the backdoor watching, disinterested. Not that Levi was ‘embracing nature for healing’ or some bullshit; he just needed some time without anyone breathing down his neck.

 

Levi had had the impression that they were in a shack in the middle of nowhere, something that could easily be burned down to destroy any evidence, but it was an actual brick home with a solid foundation. And cute little shutters, for fucks sake, painted white to compliment the red of the bricks and the black of the roofing. It was just as puny a structure as he imagined though, probably only scrounging up eight-hundred square feet. Actually, burning it down might not even be that hard….

 

Erwin had never given Levi explicit boundaries, but somehow, Levi knew not to go far. He always looked around at the rolling, grassy hills, trying to gauge just how fast and far he’d have to run to get someone’s attention. But Erwin only ever gave him a t-shirt and boxers to wear, no socks or shoes, and Levi was certain that no Good Samaritans would let an eight-fingered one-eared man hitchike for fear of their own wellbeing. 

 

Levi was allowed to bathe as often as he liked and the water heater allowed, but Erwin would only give him fresh clothes every other day, much to Levi’s dismay. 

 

There was exactly one skillet in the house, the large cast iron one, and Levi snooped for it in the momentary reprieve of Erwin’s presence one day. He didn’t find it anywhere. Nor did he find anything else useful for incapacitating the man. Goddamn. Even the cutlery, plastic and flimsy as it was, had vanished in its disuse. Levi was always made to eat with his hands.

 

As Levi’s vitality returned, so did coherent thought. The shame he felt at betraying Erwin rapidly turned into embarrassment at how much of a sniveling little shit he had become when starved and isolated into submission. Levi really pegged himself as stronger than that. The fact that three days had that effect on him made him want to bash his head into a wall. How ridiculous for him to react to a few missed meals like that. It wasn’t uncommon, before all of this, that he would go just as long without eating because whatever cocktail Dr. Zoe had prescribed him took root and sucked his appetite dry. 

 

Unlike the schedule Levi experienced during his  _ reprimand _ , Erwin didn’t seem to sleep anymore. Levi wasn’t allowed in the bed after that first night back upstairs, instead he was given a rather large, fleecy cushion that screamed  _ dog bed _ on the floor and had his wrist handcuffed to the solid, metal frame over him. After locking Levi in place for the night, Erwin would sit in the corner with a chair dragged from the dining room, open his laptop, and ignore Levi. And when Levi woke to early morning sunlight, Erwin was still in that chair, watching him and writing, and refused to address him. 

 

Levi didn’t understand himself, didn’t get why this frustrated him so fucking much. He wanted to be looked at, to be touched, to be fucking  _ acknowledged _ , but there had been distance since his reprimand. He should be welcoming that space, but it twisted his gut with conflict and played on his resolve.

 

On occasion, Levi’s frustration and need for attention built until he took a swipe at Erwin, and Erwin repaid him by tossing him into the basement until dinner. For however many agonisingly silent hours, Levi bid his time, knowing that the punishment would not be as thorough as the three isolated days he received when he had actually landed a hit on the Blondie. It was apparent that Erwin would not lay hands on him, and so sometimes Levi purposefully pushed the other man’s patience to the point that Erwin would only unlock and lower the stairs and Levi willingly walked himself down there for some time away from the object of his annoyance. 

 

It seemed to work for both of them that way. Levi thought that Erwin used the time to leave and tend to his business elsewhere, which fanned a small ember of jealousy in Levi because he wanted to be Erwin’s  _ only _ business for whatever fucking reason. Levi was vaguely aware of Stockholm Syndrome but shoved that to the dark recesses of his mind when it popped up since he was not  _ falling in love _ with this man. He only wanted Erwin’s attention.

 

There were hardly any places to hide in the house, but the space between the tops of the kitchen cabinets and the ceiling was just enough for Levi to squeeze in and lay prone. That always pulled a response from Erwin, who would chuckle out a low, ‘ _ katze _ ’ as if they were in a game of hide-and-seek and Erwin was taunting him to come out, come out wherever he was (even after he watched Levi climb up there in wonder).

 

Up there, Levi could look down on his captor and pretend that it were a dream. He could deny the reality in the situation, because what grown-ass man would lounge in hard-to-reach places like a feline? Levi could convince himself that it was the effect of some drug haze, because after his  _ reprimand _ , he was acting so unlike himself, and it occurred to him several times that he had probably lost his mind. That was his only explanation. Somehow he had melted his brain and it pushed him into a land of fantasy. Maybe in the  _ real world _ he was in a happy house, all tucked up nice and cozy in a straight jacket and a padded room, more psychiatric medication in his bloodstream than blood cells. 

 

When he woke up during the night shaking and sweating from panic, he would cling to that fantasy, using it to cope with the gravity of the ordeal until he went under again. 

 

;;;

 

Erwin clears Levi’s plate of breakfast before he’s done eating and replaces it with a heavy copy of a newspaper. First, Levi’s eyes go to the date printed along under the header: it’s Sunday, and tomorrow marks two weeks.  _ Two weeks _ . Has it really been...? It feels longer.

 

His eyes scan downward at the bold print of the front page,  _ ‘MISSING, SUICIDE ‘LIKELY’’ _ and he meets a photo of himself-- younger by a decade, smiling in a school uniform, with _ two _ ears, and his heart drops. This is the photo that circulated when the story broke, when Levi Ackerman became the boy in the eyes of the nation, escaped from the Organisation, his testimony a killing blow to what little support the group had managed to garner. Next to the photo is a snippet of the article, a good hook, and a summary of Levi’s importance in the war against terror. He turns to the full spread, letting the other sheets of newsprint land in his lap, and consumes it.

 

_ “Ackerman has been receiving care from Dr. Hanji Zoe, who yesterday released a formal statement on the confirmed disappearance of her most perturbed patient. Zoe sites suicide as ‘highly likely’ due to Ackerman’s instability. After ten years, Ackerman was still ill-adjusted to daily life, often troubled by explosive and violent tendencies. Medical reports released show that in the week leading up to his disappearance, Ackerman had been admitted to St. John’s Hospital for overdosing on prescription medication….” _

 

Levi can’t believe what he’s reading, but he can’t stop. He reads the article over and over. Dr. Zoe said these things. She calls him ‘ _ deeply disturbed _ ’ and  _ ‘anxious to the point of self-harm’ _ and paints a picture of Levi as some kind of nervous wreck. No, this is bullshit. He’s none of this. He says so aloud.

 

“You don’t remember?”

 

“What?” Levi’s eyes snap up to Erwin, who is now sitting across the table from him, watching with a reserved concern. “Remember what?”

 

“Being in the hospital.”

 

“Fuck off, this is bullshit.”

 

“You really don’t remember?”

 

“Fuck  _ off, _ that never happened.” Levi looks down at the paper again, though the weight of Erwin’s gaze raises the hairs on the back of his neck. The article goes on to talk about post-traumatic stress disorders and eventually bleeds into the Organisation as a danger to society for its archaic and cruel practices and shit that he has no interest in. 

 

“Are you feeling alright?” Erwin stands and takes the newspaper from Levi’s hands and Levi lets him. Levi would feel sick if not for the Zofran. He is definitely not alright. The room is too small now, too crowded, and he needs fresh air to keep his lungs from collapsing. His grounding daydream of straight jackets and padded rooms shatters and he’s met with the undeniability that  _ this is real _ . Suddenly, he stands, tipping the heavy chair on its side as he does, and bolts. 

 

Every time he’s been outside, he’s asked permission, but not this time. He runs out, the backdoor slamming into the drywall hard enough to puncture it, he’s sure, but fuck it. Likewise, the storm door hits the bricks of the exterior and Levi so badly hopes for it to be shattered, but he doesn’t look back.

 

He makes his way around the house, intent on running, but Erwin catches him with a grip on Levi’s throat as he rounds the last corner to the front yard. But Levi is well-fed and of clear conscience and he goes in, goes at Erwin with a knee to the blondie’s solar plexus that has him releasing his hold. Levi doesn’t stop in his fleeing, and Erwin apparently recovers fast, because there’s a hand on the back of his ankle tugging and Levi lands face-first in the grass.

 

He rolls quickly, on the defensive now, rolls away from a rising Erwin and springs to his feet. Erwin stands between him and the driveway now. 

 

But Levi is at his breaking point. He will not bend for Erwin this time. He will not be shaped by the mindgames. 

 

“COME ON!” He screams. Levi is ready to die. He refuses to be caged and trained like this. Whatever is up Erwin’s sleeve ends now. He’s scared-- he still doesn’t  _ want  _ to die, but he is ready to escape all of this. “KILL ME, YOU FUCKER!”

 

“Levi.” There Erwin is again, hands spread and placating. The sound of his own name washes over Levi and he realises… this is the first time it’s been said. Not ‘ _ boy’ _ , not ‘ _ katze _ ’ but his  _ fucking name _ . It sounds foreign, but welcome, and he doesn’t realise the denial of who he is has weakened him until the sound of it on Erwin’s lips gives him strength. 

 

“Do it,” Levi hisses with renewed resolve. “I’m not your fucking pet. I’m done here, one way or another.”

 

“Do what? Kill you? I have no reason to do that. I earned you, fair and square.”

 

“I’m not a  _ thing _ , you fucking psycho. You don’t own me.”

 

“Don’t I?”

 

“No.” 

 

“Then leave.” Erwin stuffs his hands in his jean pockets and shrugs and Levi starts.  _ Leave _ ? Really? Like that, without a fight? He must be radiating uncertainty because Erwin continues, “Follow the gravel to the property line, take the right fork, keep going until it turns into the county road at a cluster of mailboxes. There will be a sign that points you toward the city.”

 

Levi swallows and moves past Erwin cautiously. He meets no resistance, and carries on as such until he’s passing the truck parked in front of the house. He can hear the footsteps crunching after him, but they lack urgency. 

 

“I’ll give you two hours.”

 

“And then what?” Levi stops, quarter-turns, still certain in his decision.

 

“If you don’t make it to the main road,” Erwin drawls, lowering his head to give Levi a purely predatory stare, “you’re  _ mine _ and you won’t get the opportunity again.”

 

Levi sprints off, counterintuitive for endurance, he knows, but he has no clue where he’s at. All he knows is that he’s got two hours and fucking miles of countryside ahead of him. His lungs burn in no time, his body begs for a break. Fuck, two weeks without a proper exercise has left him lacking in performance. A run like this shouldn’t be so torturous. But he carries on, anyway, because this is his chance. He can go home. He can be free of that house with the ever-present threat of the basement and Erwin. 

 

The gravel cuts his feet, and once the house is out of view over the hills, Levi slows his pace. He can let up for a little bit, and then it’s back to full speed. He can see the unpaved road as it curves over and around a few more hills, and he estimates at least five miles. Fuck, where are they? Which way is the city from here? It’s morning, the sun is bright despite the threat of grey hours away on the horizon, and all he has is sky and the tan landscape. Not even another house nearby to run to for sanctuary. 

 

He doesn't know how long it's been, he can't accurately measure the time. The clock always crawls by when he's running, but this time he can’t underestimate. There’s too much at stake.

 

The pain from his soles begins to radiate, and he pushes it away and conjures up plans for when he's home. He's never leaving his apartment again… If he even has one to go to. How has going missing affected his bank account? Fuck it. He’ll get a new apartment. Whatever. Somewhere with a nice bathtub, and he’ll soak in it. Maybe he’ll procure some muscle relaxers and gamble with his life in the hot water. That’s a gamble he wouldn’t mind losing eventually.

 

He’ll get an apartment. And then he’s going to turn Dr. Zoe into the police, or the government, or whoever listens to him. The words of her release pound back and forth between his ears, the  _ lies _ , and he seizes the anger to help drive him forward. He can’t see her hung for a traitor if he doesn’t make it. He has to make it to the main road. 

 

Even though Levi fucking knows he did not overdose and that he most definitely did _ not _ spend any time in the hospital, remembering the way Erwin asked him…  _ is he sure _ ? Is it possible that it happened, but cracking his head on the basement wall shook that memory loose? 

 

“Fu-uck o-off,” he mutters between laboured breaths and pushes on. No, everything he read is a lie. Dr. Zoe made that up, which means she really is associated with the Organisation. This is all some sick joke, orchestrated from Levi’s first escape, and if he could think clearly past the stinging crawling up his feet and the icy hold locking around his lungs, Levi would almost swear that he’d been  _ allowed _ to escape ten years ago. Everything is so fitting, meshing together like gears too well to be coincidence. 

 

There was really never a chance for him, was there? Is there anything that could have prevented this, and could he even imagine his alternate life had he been just another citizen watching the news instead of a scared boy in the eyes of the nation?

 

Levi doesn’t mean to, but somehow Erwin’s words worm into his mind, from before he attacked and went to isolation for a  _ reprimand _ . That bastard had dared to claim Levi’s torture was the fault of his mother, that bastard spun some nonsense that even now angers Levi enough to help propel him onward, but he can’t help the way his brain lingers on the possibility. 

 

What would it be like, to have simply become an orphan? To come home from school that day alone, spend the night alone, and only learn the fate of his mother when child protective services came to cart him away?

 

Would Levi have been able to stay with a foster family longer than a month at a time? If so, he could’ve avoided boarding school altogether.

 

No, he liked his high school. That’s not an issue. Being passed back and forth between homes, each month a new bed, new faces of pity, a new route home in the afternoon… that was the problem. He would do everything in his power to remove that chunk of time from his memory. 

 

He stops and leans over, resting his hands on his knees and wheezing past the cold brick in his chest. What’s done is done. There’s no point in entertaining these kinds of thoughts. Besides, Erwin only talked shit about Levi’s mother to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind, and Levi is not going to let them grow. His mother loved him, she would have done anything for him. She’s gone now, and anything that happens now is not her fault. 

 

Now that he’s stopped moving, the cuts on his feet make themselves all that more known. Tentatively, he sits. He’s making good time, he can spare a small rest.

 

After that, he can’t even quite get his speed back up, and he curses. His feet are throbbing with every step, forcing him to waddle when he would rather run. His ankles are sore, too. While his shins healed correctly according to the practitioner, there was something from the incident that had always caused him to walk awkwardly, and running so hard so long has his ankles screaming with the unevenly bared weight. The waddle slows into a shuffle, but he doesn’t dare stop again. Levi hasn’t even made it to the fork, and all he sees ahead is the same unpaved trail. How much further is it? How far out are they?

 

Too fucking far.

 

He chances a look back over his shoulder, back the way he came, and he can see a trail of dust clouds. Fuck, he’s got to move.  _ Now _ .

 

The crunching of gravel beneath tires is in his ear in no time and he’s only hobbled maybe a few hundred yards. No,  _ fuck no _ , he’s going on. He’s getting out of here. Levi wants to see Dr. Zoe hung, and he can’t turn her in if he’s locked in the basement.

 

Oh, god, the fucking  _ basement _ . No, he can’t do three whole days again. He’s not going back. The only thing he knows to do in this circumstance is to attack, and he sure as hell isn’t about to do that without a plan, so he comes up with the simplest he can: take the truck. He doesn’t even need to kill Erwin. He just needs to get in the truck and shoot down to the city again. Then he can have everything he wants.

 

Erwin pulls up alongside Levi, the window on the passenger side rolling itself down automatically so that the blond can cajole his prey. No, Levi tells himself. He’s not prey. He’s a predator unassuming. 

 

“You agreed to a time limit without asking how far, you know.”

 

“Oh?” Levi huffs, but not to actually carry on a conversation. He’s filling the space.

 

“You’ve got another mile to the fork, and twenty more after that until you reach the main road, and about one hundred seconds to do it in.”

 

Levi stops. There, right at the crest of the next hill, is a cattle guard with a locked gate across the front of it. It’s not an impressively tall structure, but it’s something Levi can jump. But… god, over twenty more miles. That was shitty of him not to ask before making the deal. And at the same time, it stokes his anger. Erwin planned this, he planned Levi’s failure all along. 

 

“Don’t make this hard.” Erwin is still keeping pace along Levi as he drags his body toward freedom in vain. “You’re not going in the basement.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Levi snarls, forcing himself to take step after step. Erwin’s words are tempting, lulling his body into submission, making his body announce its pains that much more loudly. 

 

“Get in, boy. The thunderstorm will wash you away out here.”

 

“I’m alright with drowning.”

 

“I’m not asking.”

 

“I’m not listening.” Levi takes a step and stumbles, barely catching himself, and for a moment the world fades out, he’s with his uncle ten years ago, can practically hear Kenny spurring him on, can feel hands lifting him by his underarms to carry him and get him out--

 

Levi  _ is _ being lifted.

 

“Time’s up,” Erwin says, tossing Levi into a fireman’s carry. Levi hangs limply for a moment before the embers of his anger erupt. Twenty miles or not, he’s too fucking close, this is his only chance. He’s going _ home _ . 

 

He twists his hips, digging one knee square into Erwin’s throat, who reflexively crunches forward, losing his grip on Levi. The gravel is unforgiving on Levi’s tailbone, the shocking tingle running straight up his spine, but he snaps out in a kick to the back of Erwin’s knee regardless. When Erwin falls, he aims for Levi, who can’t roll away quickly enough and gets an elbow to his gut with all of Erwin’s weight behind it. Levi gapes at the air as it’s knocked out of him, but he wraps his legs around Erwin, one tucking up under the man’s arm, the other between his neck and shoulder, ankles meeting at Erwin’s shoulder blades and Levi squeezes. He feels the spine pop under the force, but it’s not strong enough to keep Erwin immobilised. 

 

Erwin grips Levi’s knee hooked over his shoulder in one massive hand, holds it tight, and rolls them in the direction of his other shoulder, so that Erwin is square on his back. With one arm securing Levi to him, Erwin rolls them in a backwards tumble so they land with Levi flat on his back, arms pinned his to chest by Erwin’s weight, and Erwin at the upper hand. 

 

“Get in the truck,” he demands, holding Levi down easily when he tries to force them over again.

 

Levi bites because that’s all he can do. Erwin’s jugular is open, unguarded, and Levi latches onto it with his life depending on it. He breaks the skin, tastes the copper and prays that Erwin has no transmittable diseases, and doesn’t let go until a firm set of fingers press into the hinges of his jaw forcefully enough to dislocate, just shy of doing so.

 

Erwin holds Levi down like that, and grips his own bleeding neck. He pulls his hand away to study the blood on his fingers before applying more pressure. He’s breathing heavy, so is Levi, their eyes lock. 

 

For the first time, Levi witnesses the unmistakable glint of  _ murder _ in Erwin’s expression, and Levi can’t stop the smile that spreads over his face. Mouth and teeth still coated in blood from the broken skin, he can feel the disgusting residue, but can’t bring himself to lick it away. Erwin’s hand is still holding his jaw tightly, it would be nothing for him to adjust his grip by a few inches and end Levi’s life. And Levi wants that. All fear is gone now. He only  _ wants. _

 

Erwin pulls his hand from his neck several times, wiping the blood on his own shirt each time, until the slowing of the flow is agreeable with him.

 

“Get. In. The. Truck.”

 

“No.” Levi licks his tongue over his teeth, globs the blood with the excess saliva in his mouth, and spits. The hock makes a home in the valley of the inner corner of Erwin’s eye. “Fuck you.”

 

Erwin, for a moment, does exactly as Levi wants. His hand slides down, the pressure increases, and just as Levi lets his body go limp to welcome the void of death Erwin releases him and gets to his feet over Levi.

 

“You just  _ have _ to make everything harder, don’t you.” Erwin grabs the hem of his shirt and raises it to his neck, dabbing at the fresh droplets there, then cleans his face. Levi rolls onto his side, frustration at the denial of death building, but a swift kick to his ribs lays him out flat again.

 

Over his own wheezing, he can hear Erwin open a truck door and then come back over. Levi opens his eyes, not realising he’d shut them until that moment, and the Blondie is crouching beside him, metallic  _ clinking  _ in his ears something similar to--  _ no _ . 

 

“You couldn’t take the easy way, could you, boy?” Erwin lifts Levi’s head and Levi can feel cold metal on the back of his neck and he’s frozen in place, knowing what’s happening. After Erwin stands again, Levi raises his fingers to the weight around his neck and swallows. Sure enough, Erwin has looped a transport chain around his neck and secured it with a padlock, and Levi’s eyes follow the links as they trail up to Erwin’s hand.

 

“Now, boy,” Erwin says, the murder replaced by a cold, calm fury, giving the chain a  _ playful _ tug, “get in the truck.”

 

They ride back in tense silence, Levi stretched across the bench with his head on Erwin’s thigh, a rather brutal grasp on his scruff keeping him amenable. It’s the right side of his face that’s exposed, and Erwin strokes his index finger over the keloid he’s so fond of. Levi is out of his mind with numbness, and it feels like they backtrack the journey that took him two hours in a matter of moments. His freedom was so close, so  _ fucking _ close, and he feels maddeningly suicidal at his failure. Now that there’s a convenient chain locked around his neck, maybe he still has a way out of this, and he intends to accomplish it as soon as he can.

 

Erwin has other plans, though. True to his promise, Levi doesn’t go into the basement. Instead, he is left on the porch with an aggravating lack of slack in his chain.  

 

“What? You think I’m going to let you hang yourself after what I’ve gone through with you? I earned you, boy, you’re mine now.” Erwin tests the integrity of the set-up. Levi has enough room to sit up comfortably if he chooses, but that is all. He can’t go over the railing and snap his neck. “I’m not going to torture you or kill you. I’m not a sadist. The sooner you recognise that, the sooner we can move away from all this unpleasantness. Pain is the greatest of teachers, but I don’t like that you make me hurt you.”

 

Levi says nothing, does nothing, still feeling separate from his body. At some point, after a few more caresses, Erwin leaves him alone. At another point, he comes back with a dog dish full of baked beans and sets it down in front of Levi with the explanation, “Act like an animal, get treated like an animal.”

 

It doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore. All Levi wants is for this to be over and to be back in his mother’s arms again. It seems like so long ago that she held him. The last memory he has of Kuchel Ackerman is a gruesome image but he doesn’t dare banish it from his mind, clinging to it as he feels himself slipping out of consciousness. 

 

Everytime he opens his eyes, the threatening grey on the horizon is a little closer, until finally it’s upon him, dowsing him in frigid rain. But it doesn’t matter anymore. His mind is devoid of  _ anything _ , and he’s not even sure he’ll remember any of this. It’s hollowly comforting. 

 

A cold night passes, Levi hopes to die of exposure in his sleep, but he’s wrapped tightly in a wool blanket when he awakes the next morning, and he feels cheated. 

 

He hasn’t moved an inch since Erwin secured him like a troublesome hound. Hasn’t had any thoughts, other than the memory his mother with her intestines spilling from her body, whispering that she loves him just before her throat is slashed wide, looping over and over and over. 

  
He wants to join her, fall into the void with her, so with the promising sunrise as his witness, Levi lifts his forearm to his mouth and begins to bite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always abusing alliteration, aren't I? 
> 
> I did so much research, but if you have con-crit, I'm welcome to it. I could only make so many questionable google searches in a row.


	3. Reeducation

Erwin often handles the breaking of persons, but hardly ever comes in contact with the individuals after they snap. Before he goes to retrieve Levi from the porch, he flips through Hanji’s notebook several more times, dedicating her cautions to memory so as not to further damage his charge in such a potentially fragile state.

 

The boy is prime for the picking, Erwin having watched his downward spiral for the past week with satisfaction. Levi is a fun and beautiful thing with which to toy, and he doesn’t even know it. Erwin can see dependence forming in the way the boy preens when addressed by his pet name, the way he practically falls into Erwin’s hands when Erwin touches him now. Just like Erwin wants, Levi is showing his submission. Where he once met Erwin’s eyes with challenge, he now averts his gaze, lowers his head, bares his neck and the disfigured ear in offered vulnerability. The only thing that isn’t changing is that foul, snippy mouth, but the words feel less sharp, less weighted. 

 

It may have come on too easily, Erwin thinks, but once something is in splinters, it no longer matters how much force was put into its destruction. If Levi isn’t ready yet, it’ll become apparent. Otherwise, he will be limber and moldable under Erwin’s touch.

 

Palming the sore bite on his neck through the bandage, he still can’t believe what happened. Of course, Levi biting him gave him an excuse to pull out the transport chain  _ at last _ , and it makes for an exquisite sight secured with a padlock on the suprasternal notch of the boy’s throat. Erwin thinks momentarily of Mike’s pet, who runs around the office devoid of an accessory marking her ownership, and a pang of desire steels in his bones. With time and exercise, he and Levi will get to that point, and while Erwin is enjoying the journey, he looks forward to the destination. This boy will  _ exceed _ all of his expectations.

 

Despite the short time frame, Levi was not easy to grind away at. It had been quickly apparent that he was not the kind that could be beaten into submission. Levi could probably take ten thousand lashes and roll over and ask if that’s all Erwin had in him. No, instead it took a more subtle approach.

 

Before all of this, Levi had isolated himself by choice, but the boy so hungered for affection and that had been his weakness. Through that soft spot, Erwin had crawled into Levi’s subconscious and planted his poisons. Levi’s scars, always so desperately hidden, were of genuine fascination to Erwin, and when Erwin gave them attention, Levi lapped it up eagerly, totally oblivious to the way he was submitting. After Levi’s three days’ isolation, Erwin withheld his touches, and he thought Levi might tear his own eyes out from the frustration.

 

That boy though,  _ damn _ , he found another way to pull the things he wanted from Erwin. The first time Erwin saw him nestled on top of the cabinets like a snoozing cat, Erwin couldn’t help the sing-song in his voice when he asked Levi what he was doing up there. And like the cat that got the cream, Levi opened his blank eyes and looked down at Erwin with a barely perceptible upturn in one corner of his mouth. After that, anytime Erwin passed him in his hiding spot, he expected an acknowledgement, and if he didn’t get one, Levi would slowly implode with desperation and lash out. A few hours in the basement usually cleared that up. It didn't take long for Levi to learn that frustration was no excuse for his behaviour. 

 

Looking Levi in the face is much more manageable from above, too. Having the boy look  _ down  _ on him is vaguely unsettling in the way that is difficult to pin but Erwin guesses it’s those empty, doll-like eyes; sometimes like a fine sheet of ice, other times like silvery glass, but always so vacant. Levi even stares like a cat, long and unblinking when Erwin chooses to engage him, though when Levi is on his perch, Erwin avoids it as long as he can. The denial gives Erwin power though, as Levi is the one whose request is being turned down. 

 

The boy needs grooming. His beard is sparse and uneven, and the shaggy mop of hair makes him look like a deranged man with all its knots. Erwin knows that Levi grew it long purposefully to hide his ear, and in surveillance photographs, it’s combed neatly and clean. It’s gone without a good detangling for too long now.

 

The sun is just christening the horizon when Erwin opens the door. Exactly where he’s been the whole night is Levi; Erwin had come out after the rain and wrapped him tightly in a heavy wool blanket which is still perfectly in place around the small form. As much as he’d wanted to unclasp Levi and drag the waterlogged boy into bed with him, Erwin had left him out. Punishment is punishment, and he needs to be consistent. A firm hand brings firm obedience. 

 

Levi is awake, Erwin can see, and he’s gnawing on his wrist. A marble of purple and red is blooming there. 

 

“Ready to go inside?” Erwin squats and tugs Levi’s abused wrist from his mouth. Only then does the boy seem to realise Erwin is there, and the glassy gaze raises the fine hairs at the back of his neck. If it is possible, Levi’s eyes are even more dead.

 

“I’m going to loosen you,” Erwin continues, disappointment in the lack of response. He ducks back into the house and comes back with the bolt cutters so that Levi doesn’t have to drag fifteen feet of chain around with him. In those couples of moments, Levi brings his wrist back to his mouth to continue attempting to open it up. 

 

Erwin sighs and kicks Levi’s wrist from his mouth, taps the boy’s forehead carefully with the business end of the cutters to crack through the mental debris from Levi’s shattering. No piece of him seems to be intact. He only stares, empty, unflinching, dead. Good.

 

“You didn’t eat last night.” Erwin uses his toes to tip Levi’s head back and expose the chain. Bolt cutters find the link second-nearest to the padlock, bite and break it, and still Levi is unaffected. “Don't you like what I give you?”

 

After his reprimand in the basement for three days, Erwin had thought Levi was broken. Hearing his name hollered like that, Levi crying for him desperately, what else could he think? In a day, though, it was evident that Levi was not broken by the experience, only shaken. Erwin could almost  _ taste _ the difference this time. Levi is in pieces now. Pieces that Erwin is eager to rearrange into something that he wants, knowing that he will be in control of the shape they take.

 

Erwin loops the excess chain from his hand to elbow to form an even circle, and skips down the porch steps to toss it in the bed of the truck. It clatters loudly, and when Erwin turns around, Levi is sitting himself up on shaking muscles. The boy had made it almost fifteen miles in those two hours on half a plate of breakfast-- of course he is exhausted. When Erwin ascends the stairs up to him, Levi catches his gaze again.

 

His voice is low and tired. “Did I really try to overdose?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“The paper,” Levi nods his head toward the door, indicating the inside of the house. “Dr. Zoe says I was in the hospital.”

 

Ah. Erwin is glad Levi is bringing this up and giving him the opportunity to twist events so that Levi questions his perceptions from now on, make him doubt his own thoughts and seek to have Erwin’s instead. The window for creating undeniable dependency within the boy is small, but open. “What paper?”

 

“The Sunday paper. Yesterday.” Levi quotes the date, clears his throat. “It’s Monday now.”

 

“Levi.” Erwin squats again and rests the back of his hand against the boy’s forehead to mimic gauging his temperature. “You were dreaming.”  

 

“Oh.” Levi lowers until he’s lying supine on the porch. There’s no fighting, no standing his ground, no defending his opinion. Only acceptance. Doesn’t even question why he ran then, if there was never a trigger. “I was… dreaming…. Erwin, is this real?”

 

“What do you mean?” Erwin touches the padlock with his index finger. 

 

“This.  _ This. _ I keep imagining that I’m not here.” Levi turns those dead eyes on Erwin again. “I think that I’m made up. This body isn’t real.” He looks at his bruised wrist and frowns. “It doesn’t hurt, nothing in my body hurts. Am locked up in a straight jacket somewhere?”

 

“Is that where you want to be?” 

 

Levi’s brows furrow. “I… don’t know.”

 

“Well, I want this to be real.” Erwin cups Levi’s cheek and lets his thumb brush over his lips. “Don’t you want it, too, Levi?”

 

Using his name seems to ground Levi, because he nods in Erwin’s hand and struggles to sit himself up again. When he’s upright, with Erwin's hand still on his cheek, he says, “I didn’t want to be a stray anymore. I wanted to see my mother.” Levi holds his half-chewed wrist out and Erwin’s takes it in both of his large hands, understanding that this is Levi’s admission to the poor attempt at suicide just as Erwin suspects it to be. “But you’ve been good to me-- better than I deserve. You’ve given me everything I need.”

 

Hearing that phrase from Levi’s lips, it’s just shy of impossible to keep the serious look on his face. Erwin has said those words over and over, hoping to drill them into Levi’s brain; apparently he succeeded, and having Levi acknowledge this brings Erwin one step closer to his destination. 

 

“I do,” Erwin confirms, running one hand from Levi’s wrist up his arm to the chain and lock, which he taps with the nail of his middle finger to make the metal sing. “And this is fitting collar to my spitfire little stray, isn’t it, katze?”

 

Uncharacteristically, Levi smiles, and in that smile, Erwin can see the scattered remains of the man that’s been in the making for the last decade. He is undone completely and he is all Erwin’s for the taking, and take him Erwin will, until Levi Ackerman is utterly unrecognisable and totally separate from the boy he seized in the grocery store parking lot that morning two weeks ago.

 

“I want to keep you with me until we die-- I want to have you with me everywhere I go,” Erwin confesses, leaning in touch their foreheads before pulling away.

 

A shimmer of interest passes through Levi’s eyes, like there’s a tempting morsel being held just out of reach and all he needs is to ask, so he does. “Everywhere?”

 

Erwin agrees, “Everywhere.”

 

“I have nowhere else to go,” Levi says. “No one else wants me but you.”

 

Another of Erwin’s phrases, and this time the blonde does smile. With a little affection, the boy has soaked up everything Erwin said. Unbelievable. It's so magnificent that this is Levi's state of mind after a mere two weeks. Erwin had been expecting to put in more effort, more time, more blood and sweat and punishment. 

 

“Yeah,” Levi concedes like an old friend. “I’ll follow you, but you’d better not hurt me, ‘cause I'll slash your fucking throat.”

 

_ Ah _ , at least some parts of his personality are intact. And self-defence aside, Erwin doesn't need to hit Levi-- that's what his colleagues are for. He touches their foreheads together again, this time letting the tip of his nose nuzzle into Levi’s philtrum, brings their mouths dangerously close as he says, “No, I won't hurt you. You’re my stray. I’ll take care of you and give you what you need.” 

 

“You’d better,” Levi threatens, breathless.

 

The boy is carried to the bathroom and groomed before anything else. Erwin takes a pair of safety scissors to the sides and bottom of the mop of ragged hair, then follows cautiously with shears, so that Levi’s haircut resembles his own, save the excessive length on the top. Seeing it splayed out is something Erwin has grown fond of, and while he admires Levi’s asymmetric appearance, he wants to allow the boy some degree of privacy for when they venture out into the city again. It’ll also be useful to Erwin if he can convince Levi that he is the only one who appreciates Levi’s disfigurement, the only one who finds beauty in it. 

 

Levi’s nails are trimmed, all eighteen for both of their safety, his teeth are brushed, patchy beard shaved, and then Erwin runs and a bath and proceeds to scrub him pink. Taking the initiative cements the feeling in Levi that he is  _ owned _ , and he submits, allowing Erwin to move him around and view every part of him. Erwin’s hands are clinical, however. He’s had a good view of the semicircular, almost-faded scars of Levi’s arms in the short-sleeve t-shirts, but he can touch them now. They’re remarkably smooth, no anomaly in the texture of his skin, only the colouring. The neat line of cigarette burns on his back are the same, though darker appearing on the sun-deprived skin. Crescents like those on the boy’s arms trail down from the burns, staggered and unmethodical.

 

There’s hesitation on Levi’s part as Erwin follows his spine down to the crease of his ass, but he relents and lets his most private areas be washed by the blonde, who tries not to linger. Erwin’s hands might be clinical, but his gaze is unprofessional as he swallows up the view of Levi’s ass. Erwin can’t see Levi’s face from where he is bent behind the boy, but he can see that the one ear is bright red, and he smiles at that. Even in his brokenness, Levi still has some sense of shame. 

 

Afterward, the cuts on his feet are cleaned and wrapped, and Erwin rolls a pair of thick socks onto Levi, who beams at having socks all his own again and even voices his gratitude. Something so small has that profound an impact, and Erwin feels accomplishment. Levi’s dependency on him is vital, and the more signs of that the boy shows, the more his  _ success _ feels tangible.

 

Grooming over, he has his round of medication, then Levi curls up on the couch and watches as Erwin gets him breakfast. He elected for Levi to keep the chain and lock around his neck and surprisingly, Levi prefers it. Glancing over, Erwin can see the boy grasping it in a fist loosely, stroking it with his thumb like it means something to him. If that becomes his comfort item, Erwin might just breath easy at the implications of it. Because if Levi is taking solace in the physical items he’s given, then the verbal will soak in with little effort. 

 

;;;

 

For the first couple of days, Levi hobbles around on sore feet and ankles. He does his best to move as little as possible, taking a semi-permanent residence on the only piece of furniture in the living room, a little old loveseat tucked under the window along the wall next to the front door. Erwin gives him space, even leaves him unattended for small stretches of time. Levi is indeed broken, and Erwin is gluing him back together with his own ideologies. Like a spoonful of sugar, Erwin gives Levi miniscule amounts of affection, and Levi drinks up whatever medicine Erwin gives him.

 

The boy loves his mother too much to directly blame his torture on her, so Erwin takes a new route and blames the government. He twists the facts through inferences and makes it seem as if Kuchel Ackerman were forced to do what she did. Of course, the way Levi was treated as soon as the spotlight faded a decade ago, it was that much easier for Erwin to convince Levi who the real enemy is. The ideas are rejected the first time they speak, but the next, Erwin takes Levi’s hand at the table during dinner, strokes his knuckles, and Levi allows Erwin to finish his address. The third time, Erwin gives it to Levi like a bedtime story while tucking the boy into his dog cushion, and by the fourth time, Levi is nodding along, his reservations over accepting Erwin’s words gone.

 

It’s the first small persuasion that will form Levi into a weapon for the Organisation, and once again, Erwin is pleased with the ease.

 

While feeding Levi a new belief, Erwin continues to weave a tight dependency within the boy. His affection is minimal, yes, but frequent, and only withheld when Levi behaves somewhere below satisfactory. It’s so easy to shape his captive like this. Achingly so. Erwin can feel the bloodlust sneaking its way back into his brain just as Levi’s feet scab and bear weight without lighting aflame, and he knows it’s time to proceed with his experiment. 

 

Erwin touches Levi in a way that leaves the little noirette chasing the sensation, but he occasionally indulges himself. His favourite is to sit on the loveseat with Levi on the floor between his knees while he praises the Organisation’s good deeds and social advancements. Levi, whether he realises it or not, has a tendency to lean against Erwin’s left knee, leaving the right side of his neck and his silver-pink keloid open for the taking, and Erwin helps himself. Several times, Erwin lets his fingers skate from the scar of Levi’s ear to the chain and down to the collar of the t-shirt, slips in a finger, and Levi jerks away. Erwin doesn’t push, doesn’t press, but he’ll withdraw his affections for several hours. Usually, Levi takes to his hiding spot on top of the cabinets and when Erwin thinks Levi feels like cooperating again, he retrieves him with an open hand stretched up and two back-to-back snaps of his fingers.

 

Levi is holding back incredible strength, Erwin can tell by the way he descends from the tops of the cabinets like silk on the weight of air. His body is a smooth and steady waterfall spilling over, toes meeting the countertops where he then squats like a perched predator, knees high with his palms on the surface between the flat soles of his feet. The first time Erwin saw him posed so divinely, he was desperate to see it again, so he let loose his control for a moment and gave Levi a kiss on the corner of his mouth. The tactic works, because Levi perches like that more often, and receives the same affection for it without fail.

 

It’s simple training, really. A consistent, positive response to a wanted behaviour will ensure the behaviour continues. Likewise, Erwin’s negative response, the withdrawal of his touch, causes Levi to change what he does. When seated between Erwin’s knees, it doesn’t take long for Levi to stop jerking away and instead let Erwin slip his fingers where he pleases. After all, Levi used to be defensive of his ear, and now he all but preens when Erwin worships that scar. 

 

Having this kind of power over someone feels perverted, and Erwin understands why Nile prefers to rebuild and train the people Erwin breaks. Levi is Erwin’s first project in the way of rebuilding, but Levi will also be his only, his magnum opus, the one who stays by Erwin’s side like a sheathed sword, so he’s not jealous of his comrade in that way. Nile rebuilds and passes off his pet projects, and Erwin gets to keep his. 

 

He took advice on this from Mike, who has his  _ one and only  _ everywhere he goes, so as not to spoil this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Speaking and corroborating with Hanji was also advantageous, because Levi is shaping up more successfully than Erwin could have foreseen. It’s taking much less time, as well, proof that Erwin’s strategy is efficient and perfectly suited for the boy.

 

The fourth night after Levi’s breaking, Thursday night, Erwin takes him to his bed instead of the dog cushion underneath. Levi, to his credit, doesn’t ask any questions as Erwin loops handcuffs through the metal railing at the head of the bed and secures them around both of the boy’s wrists. When he’s done, he sits on the edge of the bed at Levi’s hip with a book, intending to read aloud. 

 

“Erwin,” Levi says in the way he’s adopted over the last several days: quietly, as if seeking permission rather than overstepping bounds, but at the same time, not timidly. Erwin flicks his eyes up to Levi’s, and for the first time, that glassy deadness dissolves and Erwin can see fire just as Levi rolls from his side onto his back. A thigh nudges again Erwin’s spine as Levi spreads his legs the slightest.

 

This is sooner than Erwin anticipated, and he’s unsure how to react. Obviously he can’t fuck the boy, but it’s a good sign that Levi would offer his body in such a way. The book in Erwin’s hands suddenly weighs ten-thousand pounds as he looks down at Levi and the newly rekindled heat in his gaze, as if imploring Erwin to dive into the fires with him. Does he reinforce this, or does he discourage it? It’s delicious having Levi like this-- hands over his head and restrained, supine with his legs apart, but Erwin can’t taste this yet.

 

After all, Hanji noted several times in her journal that Levi had no sexual preference, no desire to engage in sex or masturbation. This is an urge drawn out by manipulation.

 

“Katze,” he whispers and splays one of his large hands low on Levi’s abdomen, flat and hard, and he can feel the rapid thudding through the iliac arteries there. He kneads his fingers into the flesh once and then turns, opens his book and doesn’t look at Levi again, reading about warships until sleep drags the boy under. 

 

;;;

 

The next morning, Erwin uncuffs Levi before the boy wakes, leaves three pills on the dining table, and heads outside to call Hanji. She agrees to assemble a home-visit bag but not before reminding Erwin twice that she’s a psychiatrist, not a licensed practitioner. Still, she knows Levi well enough and that’s what Erwin needs. It’s going to be a long night, so he asks Hanji to bring a coffeemaker and grounds. She reminds him of the possible physical complications of serotonin syndrome, and Erwin decides that he needs to go to the city.

 

Levi is on the loveseat when Erwin comes back in much later, and Erwin ignores him for the time being. It’s not that he feels guilty about what he’s going to put Levi through, he tells himself. He’s past the point of guilt. This is information that the Organisation is eager to attain, and it will be extremely useful in future interrogations if Erwin can prove it’s a viable option. He’s thought about asking Levi for his consent, but ultimately decided it would muddle the results too much. No, having Levi go in blind will produce something genuine, and Erwin can use this trial to test the unhealthy dependency between them and the trust that he’s cultivating in Levi. 

 

Erwin decides they can forego an immediate breakfast. Their destination is a travel station on this side of the city along the outskirts, and Erwin will get them doughnuts alongside the pounds and pounds of ice. “We’re going for a ride.”

 

Levi looks like he wants to ask questions, but he knows better than that now. His inquisition comes through nonverbally, however, with a raised eyebrow, and Erwin notes that he will have to force that reaction out of Levi, too. There won’t be room for any questioning or hesitation soon.

 

“You heard me, boy,” Erwin snaps as he comes toward Levi when the boy is still sitting on the couch after Erwin has laced his boots. 

 

“Okay,” Levi apologises and stands. Erwin ushers the hobbling boy out first, locking the tiny, unsuspecting house behind them. They ride with the windows down in the cool morning, Levi’s head resting in Erwin’s lap with the right side of his face on display, Erwin predictably caressing the silvery-pink keloid with his thumb. His middle finger is tugging teasingly at the corner of Levi’s mouth, and if Levi minds, he doesn’t react. 

 

Most of Erwin’s touches have moved over from tolerated to passively welcomed, a subtle difference separating the two responses, but this is a new one. The tip of Erwin’s finger makes it past Levi’s lips and brushes over the teeth there, feeling them and naming them in his head. Briefly, he wonders what Levi would look like if Erwin knocked out his premolars, but it passes as Levi timorously opens his mouth to tongue at Erwin’s fingertip.

Erwin leaves his hand on the boy and that’s all the encouragement Levi needs to know that his action is alright. 

 

It’s a slow and bumpy ride until the mailboxes. There, they turn onto the blessedly paved county road and ride much more timely toward the city. Levi perks up at the sound of passing vehicles, but Erwin palms the boy’s jaw to keep his head down.

 

“I’m going to leave you in the truck while I go inside. Stay out of sight, katze,” Erwin instructs him as he parks at a gas pump. It’s a Friday mid-morning, in the peaceful break between the rush of getting to work and the rush of getting lunch. The other pumps are occupied by trucks loaded with toys, campers, trucks pulling boats, and any little recreational fun, people too wrapped up in their weekend plans to pay any attention to Erwin’s modest two-door truck. 

 

“Erwin.” Levi twists onto his back and Erwin tilts his head down to meet the frightened gaze. 

 

“You’re fine,” Erwin breathes and opens his door, sliding out from under the boy’s head and shutting the door with more force than necessary. 

 

Erwin’s met the accountants at his humble branch of the Organisation only once before. He had, at the time, been surprised to know that the guilty hands behind the funding of their endeavors were a a circle of kind, old women, complete with white curls, bifocals, and knitting needles during times of inaction. They kept the books and records of the cover businesses, the fronts for underhanded criminal dealings that allowed members like Erwin to take on responsibilities full time. Of course, not everyone was like him. Many of them worked in the real-world with part time involvement. 

 

The downtown headquarters were in a building owned by some higher up member who allowed Nile’s wife to operate a tavern on the ground floor. The series of apartments on the second, third, and fourth floors were ‘ _ privately leased _ ’ to recruits and officers as ‘ _ tenants _ ’ on paper but actually served as the various offices, training rooms, and holding cells. In Erwin's tiny closet of an office, he had a surprisingly comfortable couch that served as his bed and a squat little bathroom with a stand-in shower, sink, and toilet. As small as the mountain estate was in terms of proper brick houses, it was still a welcome change from his bookshelf-crowded office. 

 

Erwin goes inside the travel stop to procure a large insulated cooler and bags of ice with Organisation money. Every so often, he glances out at his truck, admiring the sight of Levi watching sneakily. Erwin can just see the top of the boy’s head and the slits of his eyes peeking over the window, shying back down every time Erwin looks over, like a feline playing hide-and-seek. He comes out with a one-hundred quart cooler, a box of doughnuts, and a station attendant to help carry bags of ice from the icebox outside on the side of the building. The cooler makes home in the bed of the truck, and the ice in the cooler, and as they load, the attendant, a woman Erwin’s age, says, “Cute kid you’ve got.”

 

“Thanks.” Erwin smiles despite the momentary panic and glances up to see that Levi is watching them through the rearview window, visible only from the bridge of his nose up. Through the tinted glass like this, he does look like a child, a shy one, curious of the goings-on around him. 

 

After filling his tank again, Erwin slides into the truck, but Levi stays crouched where he was watching through the back window, turning his head to ask Erwin, “What’s with the ice? Going to cut me up and sell my organs?”

 

Erwin raises an eyebrow silently. He hands the boy the white box, telltale green polka dots and vibrant red script of ‘ _ Krispy Kreme _ ’ on the top. Levi’s eyes go wide at the sight of it in his hands, joke forgotten, and he almost erects himself, but Erwin lays his palm on his head to keep him low. Box of sugary goodness in his grasp, Levi slinks down into the footwell of the passenger side, and then looks up at Erwin with a purely beseeching pair of eyes, and Erwin nods. No words pass between them as the top flap is lifted, so Erwin starts the truck and begins the trek back into the countryside. He thinks he hears Levi moan when he discovers the doughnuts are cream-filled. Erwin figured the boy deserves a good treat for what he's about to go through. 

 

Levi polishes off half the box before he closes it and sets it on the bench in the middle, next to Erwin’s thigh. Crossing his arms on the seat above him, Levi rests his head in the crook of his elbow, facing Erwin with a pleased expression. 

 

Erwin reaches down and cards his fingers through the dark tresses, pushing the hair back to fan over Levi’s arm and expose his scar. 

 

“You're not gonna make me call you ‘ _ sir _ ’ or ‘ _ master _ ,’ are you?”

 

“Hm? No, why?” Erwin keeps his eyes on the road. 

 

“No, ‘ _ daddy _ ’ then either?”

 

Erwin chuckles as he shakes his head. “What this about?”

 

“That lady, she called me your cute kid.”

 

“Is this because I didn't correct her?”

 

Levi nods in his peripherals. Erwin says, “What would you have me say, then? ‘ _ Oh, no, that's my pet _ ’? Or ‘ _ thanks, that's a little stray I found in a grocery store parking lot, he is cute, isn't he _ ’?”

 

There's silence and Erwin steals a glance, eyes locking on the way Levi is worrying his bottom lip, holding back what he wants to say. 

 

But Erwin is a bull in a china store. “Do you  _ want _ to be my little boy?”

 

“What?” Levi's head shoots up. “No, fuck, that's gross.”

 

“Language,” Erwin reminds him, and Levi takes his lip back between his teeth again. “Why does it bother you that I didn't correct her? She doesn't know us.”

 

“I….”

 

Oh. Erwin gets it now. Having even a stranger comment that he’s  _ Erwin’s _ , that someone who doesn’t know them even considers Levi as belonging to him, and not an individual, is what’s got him. Of course, that woman had no idea she wasn’t looking at kid but a twenty-four year-old man. It’s a small inkling of doubt, and Erwin needs to squish it immediately.

 

“You’re mine, and it made me proud that she would say that.” Erwin keeps his eyes on the road while he lets his index finger blindly follow the curve of Levi’s jaw to his lips. “I’m glad that she acknowledged who you are:  _ my _ cute kid.”

 

For the first time, Levi doesn’t object to being  _ owned _ , there’s no sharp retort of ‘ _ I’m not a thing _ .’ Good. Closer still they move toward their destination, even if this is a half-step back. Erwin doesn’t expect to continual progress, though. These setbacks give him the chance to solidify the lesson Levi is subconsciously taking in. 

 

“I’m not gonna call you ‘ _ daddy _ ’,” Levi huffs against Erwin’s digit, and Erwin pushes it into his mouth to the knuckle. Levi pulls back so hard that he bangs his head on the glove compartment. “What the fuck! Wash your hands, they're fucking disgusting!” 

 

“You didn't mind earlier.” Erwin briefly glances over and Levi is burying his face in the crook of his elbow, turned away, his hair falling to protect him from view. 

 

A muffled, “Yeah, but….” and then he flicks his hands in a  _ shooing _ motion. It’s silent between them the rest of the way, Levi swaying in the footwell, his head still firmly tucked in the corner of his arm. Once they turn onto the gravel road, Levi’s head lolls around bonelessly. He’s sleeping, and Erwin lets him. 

 

Hanji is parked and waiting inside her car when Erwin pulls up. 

 

“Katze.” A disgruntled stirring comes in response, and Erwin reaches down and tugs Levi’s good ear. That gets the boy’s attention and he growls, turning to look up at Erwin.

 

“What?” He hisses.

 

“Adjust your attitude.”

 

The second time is less temperamental. “What?”

 

“Someone is here to see you.” Erwin watches as the boy’s eyes go wide in his skull. “Get out, take your doughnuts, and go offer some to Dr. Zoe.”

 

The boy’s shoulders just about shoot to his ears. “ _ Her _ ?”

 

“What has she ever done to you?  _ Nothing. _ I thought you get on well with her so I arranged some one-on-one time to let you clear your mind. Now do what I told you, boy.”

 

Levi scowls but slithers up to the passenger seat and maneuvers his body up and out of the truck with the Krispy Kreme box. Tension is tight in his body, his steps are choppy, but he doesn't stop or look back. Hanji is jumping from her own vehicle as the boy approaches, tossing her arms around him in an unnecessarily, overly enthusiastic embrace that has all of Levi’s visible muscles standing out. Erwin can only guess it to be a combination of Levi’s level of undress and the reservations he still has about the newspaper article incident. 

 

Erwin leaves the cooler in the truck bed and goes to unlock the small house, relieving Hanji of the blessed coffeemaker on his way. She’s yammering to Levi about how happy she is to see him being taken such good care of, and Erwin enjoys the way those words melt the stiffness from Levi’s body.

 

Hanji is messy in her private spaces, but in the presence of others, she better controls how much she spreads out. Her heavy satchel  _ thuds _ onto the floor in the tiny square of a living room and she sits beside it cross-legged, taking out notebooks and loose papers in three neat stacks, all the while chuntering about how glad she is that Levi is in Erwin’s care. If he didn’t know any better, Erwin would say she sounded _ sincere _ , but this is all part of the manipulation and it will work even more beautifully than he could have hoped, coupled with the ‘ _ cute kid _ ’ crisis from an hour prior. 

 

A small, shimmery plastic bag emerges from Hanji’s mary-fucking-poppins of a satchel, and she holds it out to Erwin blindly, never taking her eyes off Levi as she talks. Erwin takes the bag of coffee grounds and grins at the flavour. Oh, Hanji knows him so well. The grounds go next to their companion appliance on the counter of the kitchen, which Erwin leans his hips against as he watches the two in the living room. Levi has mirrored Hanji, cross-legged as well, the box of doughnuts in his lap. Shoulders are curled inward, elbows tucked, small and defensive as if he were helpless and didn’t beat the shit out of wrong-place wrong-time bystanders on a regular basis. In this position, it looks like the transport chain and padlock weigh heavily on his neck, preventing him from fleeing, forcing him into obedience at Erwin’s word.

 

“Really, Levi, it’s just good to see.” When she stops talking, Levi offers the doughnuts in a raised gesture of question, and Hanji helps herself, reaching out to take the box from Levi’s grasp while he lets her. “You look healthier, better rested, too. You were so sickly before, and I was always so worried about your complaints of insomnia. Has your appetite returned, or did Erwin eat all these?”

 

“No, he didn’t. I did,” Levi says quietly. It’s so odd, seeing him completely docile like this. Every lick of flame is extinguished in him, and Erwin is hungry to know what’s in the boy’s brain right now. They’ve been together just shy of three weeks, and to think that the volatile creature that he seized is now this quiet little thing is mind-blowing. Levi’s changes have been so gradual to him, and having the opportunity to step back and scrutinise it all helps him to see his progress clearly. Oh, yes, he is succeeding in reshaping his boy, his magnificent little katze, this malleable blade. No one will dare cross him when Levi is sheathed at his side.

 

“Oh, good,” Hanji says, stuffing half a doughnut in her mouth in one go. As she chews, she reads the spines of her notebooks and reshuffles them in their stack. Now is as good a time as any to test out the audio cue he’s been instilling in Levi, so Erwin snaps his fingers twice. 

 

Levi jerks into a position as if to lift himself up to stand, looking at Erwin with expectation that quickly morphs into confusion. 

 

_ Magnificent _ , Erwin thinks again. When he retrieves Levi from his hiding spot on top of the cabinets, he’s been snapping his fingers twice like that, and apparently Levi appropriately associates the sound with ‘ _ come here _ .’ The boy has no idea of that, though, and shifts back into his defensive curl, so Erwin snaps twice more as he commands, “Come here, Levi.”

 

This time when he jerks to stand, he follows through, and pads over to Erwin readily. He stops at the edge of Erwin’s reach and crosses his arms over his chest. “What?”

 

Erwin can see the sharpness in Hanji’s eyes as she looks over at them behind Levi’s back, the subtle lift of the corner of her mouth around her breakfast. She’s as impressed as Erwin by Levi’s response. “Are you ready for your medication?” Erwin asks, turning his attention on the noirette waiting patiently before him. 

 

“I already had it this morning.” Levi raises one eyebrow, but his tone is flat. 

 

“Are you sure?” Erwin asks, even though Levi is correct. Levi nods once, waits, scowls. “Are you sure it was  _ this _ morning?”

 

Levi’s brows push together, and he looks up past Erwin, recalling the memory. “I think so.”

 

“I don’t remember you having them,” which is honest. Erwin put the pills on the table. He didn’t directly give them to Levi, or watch Levi take them. 

 

Levi holds steadfast for a time, eyes darting between the ceiling and the floor, scowling in confusion, and then he finally relents. “You’re right, then.”

 

Once Erwin places them in Levi’s palm, Levi takes them dry without even looking at them, and Erwin remembers back when Levi wouldn’t take anything without studying it first. Good, because if he’d looked, he would have seen two Prozac instead of one with a Valium. The trust Levi has in Erwin is far from perfect, but this-- trusting Erwin’s version of events over his own memory-- is another small step in the right direction. Eventually, Erwin will be able to look forward to unquestioning trust, unwavering devotion, and he wants to groan in anticipation. 

 

Hanji sets the box down as Levi goes back over to sit before her again. His body is still tense near her, though slightly less than it was at first. 

 

Erwin listens to the mostly one-sided conversation. Levi says little, moves even less, keeping his eyes trained on Hanji and the thick, leather journal in her hands. It’s the same one he and Levi read, and he guesses the boy is wondering if that really happened, and if so, how Hanji got the journal back afterward. Giving them momentary privacy, Erwin sneaks off to the bedroom where he’s keeping the tincture of Saint John’s Wort and a few cans of soda. The soda is supposed to act to cover up the taste of the herb extract, which, while sweet, is distinct. However, there’s a good chance that if Levi stops at the strange taste, with Erwin telling him to drink anyway, he’ll obey. It’s pretty well drilled into Levi’s head that he gets everything he needs from Erwin, that Erwin won’t hurt him, so maybe he will drink up whatever he’s given without question even if he does have hesitations. Erwin pockets the tincture and takes the cans of soda to the fridge.

 

Both parties are still cross-legged on the living room floor, so Erwin takes the corner of the loveseat furthest from them. Outwardly, Levi doesn’t remove his attention from Hanji, but with Erwin near again, he visibly relaxes. The psychiatrist has shifted from blurting observations to questioning Levi, drawing out the answers she needs. How have the last few weeks been? Is he content? What does he enjoy, what would he change?

 

Erwin listens to censored answers. The last few weeks were boring to Levi. Levi is content. Levi is enjoying everything, he wouldn’t make any changes. Hanji is up-to-date in their goings-on, but she doesn’t betray that knowledge to Levi, keeping her voice and expression professionally curious, as if she believes this retelling of events. The abuse is totally ignored, and when Hanji dares to ask about the chain around Levi’s neck, his defensive reaction is everything Erwin has been building to.

 

“Levi, you say you have freedom, but you’ve got  _ that _ around your neck. Is there something else going on that you haven’t told me?”

 

“No,” he says immediately, too quickly, bunching his shoulders and looking away from her, his three-fingered right hand coming up to hide the padlock from view. “Nothing is going on. I just like wearing this.”

 

Hanji knows when to yield and when to press. She yields. “What about it do you like?”

 

Levi turns his head to face her again, but he doesn’t speak for a few moments. Even when he does, it’s a shy whisper. “It feels good. It’s a reminder.”

 

“What does it remind you of?”

 

“Erwin,” the boy says quietly. “That Erwin takes care of me. He… when I’ve done well, or I please him….” He turns his face away, taking his lips in between his teeth, the flush creeping up his neck from under his shirt. Without asking permission, Levi scoots across the floor to settle himself between Erwin’s knees, which the blonde parts to accommodate his pet, and Erwin plants a flat, claiming hand on top of Levi’s head. Having the contact seems to strengthen Levi and he continues, “When I please him, he calls me ‘ _ katze _ ’ and this is like my collar.”

 

Hanji doesn’t react other than to politely smile and take a note in her journal. The impromptu therapy session carries on for some time after that, until Hanji begins to pry out the more gruesome details that she knows exist. Levi admits to what happened, taking responsibility for everything, reciting Erwin’s words back. Every time,  _ Levi bit the hand that fed him, and he needed to be punished _ . He bristles at even the slightest implication of Erwin as abusive, defending Erwin’s actions strictly as discipline, telling Hanji how he likes the consistency, and talking about how safe he feels with the clear boundaries. And Erwin sits back in the loveseat, fighting so hard to keep the grin from his face that he has to excuse himself to the kitchen to steel up his emotions, Levi is making him  _ that proud _ . 

 

Erwin comes back from the kitchen with two cans of soda, one plain, the other with tincture added discretely. Hanji accepts the plain one and Levi gets the other, both drinking as they talk. It’s been around ten minutes since Levi set an empty can down when the shivers start. Hanji notices before Erwin, alerting him to the change in Levi’s status by abruptly putting down her leather journal and pulling a well-worn composition notebook from the bottom of its stack. His heart jumps into his throat. It’s starting. There’s no going back now, Levi is going into serotonin syndrome, and if they don't balance on this edge perfectly, Levi can die. And if that happens, all of Erwin’s commitment goes with him; he fails. It won't matter how Erwin was fashioning the boy if he dies. 

 

“F-f-fuck,” Levi stutters, pulling his arms tightly around himself, seemingly last to recognise the shivering. He burrows deeper between Erwin’s knees, rubbing his right cheek again the corresponding thigh. He’s warm even through Erwin’s jeans, and not just because of the friction. There’s a fine sheen of sweat visible on his scalp, beads forming on the back of his neck where Erwin shaved his hair away. 

 

“Language,” Erwin reminds him, reaching down to stroke the silver-pink keloid that he worships so often. Grateful despite the light scolding, Levi leans into the caress, muttering his apology through a tightly clenched jaw. Oh, he’s doing down and he’s going  _ fast _ . From the scar of Levi’s ear, Erwin can feel the rapid thumping of the posterior auricular, heart rate like a frightened rabbit with the breathing to match.

 

“Levi,” Hanji says sternly, using his name to ground him and get his attention. He’s started nuzzling into Erwin’s thigh mindlessly, the subtle shivers evolving into full-body shakes as if he’s been tossed out naked in a blizzard. Perhaps that’s what the room feels like to him now. Sixty seconds ago, he was fine, and now he's hot, sweating, and shaking. This is progressing so swiftly, and Erwin reminds himself to breathe. He can’t lose his head.

 

Levi doesn’t acknowledge Hanji except for a throaty, pained, “ _ Nnn _ .”

 

“Erwin.” Hanji is watching Levi with wide eyes, her hand scribbling madly in the notebook unsupervised. Erwin remembers his recruit days alongside the woman, remembers the way her voice dipped low to cover up fearful vibrato when she was hiding her emotions behind her logic. That’s how she sounds now. “Go get the bath ready.  _ Now _ , if you please.” 

 

He wastes no time, unloading the cooler in two runs, dumping the bags of ice in the small bathtub so carelessly that he has to kick stray chunks into the corner to keep from accidentally slipping. Filled with ice, it takes little cold water for the bath to be ready. All in all, less than five minutes have passed.

 

Out in the living room, Hanji has Levi laid on his left side in the recovery position, scribbling her notes with one hand while the other holds a thermometer in Levi’s mouth. 

 

“Erwin, is it ready? Good. Elevate his head slowly, and then sit him up.” 

 

“Okay, Levi, squeeze my hand as hard as you can.”

 

“Good. Now, let’s take your blood pressure.”

 

“Okay, temperature again.” Hanji is, at this point, the only one speaking. Erwin is sitting on the floor, his legs drawn up protectively around Levi, whose back is pressed tightly to Erwin’s chest, creating a damp spot in their clothing where their bodies meet. The small boy is jerking now, moaning with something like barely restrained pain, sweating buckets. 

 

“Shhh,” Erwin soothes into Levi’s hair. “Shh, katze, you’re doing so well for me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

Levi grinds his heels into the floor, legs straight, pushes back into Erwin, his head falling over his captor’s shoulder. “W-what-t-t-t issss--”

 

“This is hyperserotonemia.” Erwin smoothes Levi’s hair back from his forehead, slick. “I poisoned you with Prozac and Saint John’s Wort. Your body has too much serotonin in it, and it’s effectively killing you. You’re going to have a  _ very bad _ time for a while, but you won’t die. Do you trust me?”

 

Levi pushes back into Erwin again and forces his head to nod. 

 

“ _ Good _ boy,” Erwin praises. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

“What are you feeling, Levi?” Hanji is now spread out over the floor, books opened to specific sections, no doubt everything she needs to know to deal with this correctly. After all, she is a psychiatrist, not a practitioner. “Can you stop shaking?”

 

“ _ Nnn _ ,” Levi manages.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

Levi whines.

 

“How much?”

 

“ _ Wooorst _ ,” the boy squeals, undignified. 

 

“Erwin, you should take the chain off of him.”

 

“ _ Nn _ !” Levi objects, but Erwin does as Hanji suggests anyway, glad that he still has his keys in his pocket from earlier so that he doesn’t have to get up yet. Levi is a wreck of uncontrolled spasms now, but he manages to lock his hands around his chain and violently shake his head, biting out a single, “No!”

 

“It's only for a little bit, Levi,” she stresses, setting her notes down so that she can take his face in her hands. “You're getting very sick, much more rapidly than I anticipated--”

 

That's not what Levi is worried about. His own health means little to him right now, so Erwin interrupts her. “You're still my stray if I take it off, Levi. I promise to put it back on you as soon as this is over.”

 

Levi’s fingers are still tight, but Erwin manages to undo the padlock, and Hanji helps by I looping the chain from the boy’s neck. Erwin coos, “Good boy.”

 

Not long after that, Hanji instructs Erwin to strip Levi of his shirt and lay him in the recovery position again. His temperature is getting too high for Erwin to keep holding him, and that’s when the severity of Levi’s condition hits him. Crouching over the boy, watching him suffer, brings sickly twisted pride to Erwin. He was right-- this method of torture will be, while time and attention consuming, highly effective. But he only basks in the pride of his hypothesis for a second. The real puffing in his chest is because of Levi. Levi is taking this because Erwin gave it to him, and if it’s from Erwin, then it must be something Levi needs. He’s cooperating with Hanji as best he can, though he’s slipping. There were few written accounts of this condition, but they all agreed: it was torture from the inside out. His boy is suffering, shaking, sweating, moaning-- all to show Erwin that he trusts him, trusts that Erwin is going to take care of him.  

 

“Do you have a headache?” Hanji has her dominant index and middle finger on Levi’s temple in feather-soft, circular strokes. Erwin’s given up crouching like a mother hen, takes up pacing the clear floor space that leads from the little living room to the kitchen like a nervous parent instead. Levi’s still spasming uncontrolled, but the moans are becoming less pained, less frequent, and the worry grapples onto Erwin. 

 

As if sensing the change in her comrade, Hanji waves Erwin down and tells him they’ve hit the ten minute mark, and to dump Levi in the ice bath, which resurrects Levi to a degree. Erwin holds his head out of the water while Hanji alternates taking his temperature with measuring his blood pressure. They bring Levi’s fever down to one-hundred degrees before they take him out to avoid overshoot hypothermia. Back out in the living room, Levi’s got enough strength to whimper, laid out on his side on a towel, though he keeps falling onto his back with the spasms and needing to be righted. His awareness for the world around him is dipping too. Five minutes after the ice bath, he stops responding to Hanji’s questions, and another minute after that, no longer pushes into Erwin’s caresses. 

 

They kneel over him together, and Hanji doesn’t hide the fright from her voice this time. “I’m calling a doctor. A  _ real _ one. I’m not going to kill this kid, Erwin.”

 

“We’re  _ practicing torture _ on him, Hanji. Even if we stop now, they’re gonna ask why and how Levi overdosed in the first place. And that’s if they don’t recognise him immediately.” Erwin feels frustration that she would even _ bring up _ the option. She might not be a practitioner, but she has the knowledge and the tools with her for them to successfully formulate a report for the Organisation. Erwin is worried about Levi, too, but he’s choosing to focus on the glory that will come with accomplishing this. It’s the initial trial, there will be more after Levi, and the information garnered from the boy’s experience will shape the power the Organisation holds over its prisoners. The promotion promised to Erwin will benefit Levi, too. If he is higher-ranking, then so is his pet. They both needs this, Erwin justifies. He looks Hanji in the eye. “We’re going to edge him, just like we planned.”

 

“Jesus, Erwin, this isn’t some street scum you can play with,” Hanji hisses, covering Levi’s ear as if he were listening to the conversation over him. Maybe he is. Just because he’s unable to respond doesn’t mean that his senses aren’t intact.

 

“No, but I’ll remind you that this is my boy, and he trusts me to bring him out of this alive. And that’s what we’re going to do.”

 

“I get it, you’re doing a good job reconditioning him,” Hanji says, borderline frantic, “but he is--”

 

“He is  _ mine _ ,” Erwin interrupts. “And I’ll do with him what I can. There’s more riding on this than just his life. Think of our  _ cause _ , Hanji.”

 

Hanji says nothing, makes a note on a fresh page of the composition notebook. Erwin looks down at Levi, eyes closed tight, the muscles of his jaw jumping with how tightly his teeth are grit. He’ll need to check for chipping, he thinks. The whimpers are still there, sometimes lacing up with long moans. 

 

They edge Levi along the line of oblivion for two hours, letting the sickness claim him then relieving some of the symptoms in the ice bath, over and over, before Erwin gives Hanji the go-ahead to administer the cyproheptadine. By the time he gives Levi one last dunk in the ice bath, he’s completely unconscious, nothing but a jerking, dead weight in Erwin’s arms. Levi is sticky with sweat, and Erwin does his best to remove the residue with the cold water, because Levi likes to be clean. Enough ice remains for the bath to do its job in cooling him.

 

Hanji is chewing the end of her pen when Erwin sets his boy on the nest of towels in the middle of the living room floor. She checks his blood pressure and temperature again, humming with a concerned yet content tone to it. “We’re not safe until he wakes up on his own. But maybe you haven’t just killed him, Erwin.”

 

If Levi lives, it will not be because of Erwin, but because Levi is a resilient ball of potential. He tells Hanji that.

 

“You’re a heartless madman,” she says without any bite. 

 

She keeps an eye on Levi while Erwin keeps himself busy, and by late afternoon, Levi stirs with a long, loud groan. The boy takes down three glasses of water with his oral cyproheptadine, rolls onto his stomach, and goes back to sleep. Hanji watches over Levi with Erwin all night, the coffee maker pulling double time to keep them both satisfied as they draft the report from Hanji’s psychotic scribbles. She encourages Erwin to _ wean  _ the boy off the medication, but Erwin decides that now is as good a time as any to go cold turkey. Hanji purses her lips but doesn’t press. 

 

Levi doesn’t want to be left alone after Hanji leaves that night, so Erwin slides them together on the single bed. There’s no point in handcuffing Levi tonight, with the way he moves speaking of the agony still gripping his body. That doesn’t stop him from stretching up his arms around Erwin’s neck and burying his nose in the man’s underarm. The ordeal has left them both so exhausted that they awake after a seemingly brief, dreamless sleep in exactly the same position they went to sleep in. Then Levi lifts his head and vomits all over Erwin.

 

The next several days are hardly any better, but once the cuts on the bottoms of Levi’s feet seal over in pink newness, the rest of his body is reborn, including his brain. All the down time has let Erwin continue spoonfeeding Levi his ideology uninterrupted. Manipulating the boy isn’t hard, as long as Erwin shows him affection. It’s the stresses of the situation, Erwin reasons, that have regressed Levi like this. He’s now a soft, trusting little thing, and while his words are foul from time to time, he’s suppressing his strength. Erwin has been on the receiving end of a few blows, and he knows power like that doesn’t fade overnight. It’s time to sharpen his weapon.

 

It's been hanging over their heads and Erwin is ready to tackle it. Levi looks at him with questions loitering in his gaze:  _ why? _ Why did Erwin poison him? Why is he now going through withdraw  _ again _ ? So Wednesday morning, Erwin gives Levi a pair each of jeans and tennis shoes, and a thin hooded sweatshirt, telling him, “We have to go somewhere in the city.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooc levi is fun but okay who is ready for kick ass levi because i sure am


	4. Sharpening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this definitely developed differently than I planned. i flailed for a while and finally took out a lot of stuff so maybe there will be some one-shots written later on.
> 
> toward the end is something gruesome, just a warning. skip the graphic descrip if need be but make don't miss the way erwin and levi interact after it ;)
> 
> THANK YOU for all the kudos and comments! almost 500 hits, wow, i am humbled. and thank you to my lurkers too !

 

“You were right about the newspaper thing,” Levi says between mouthfuls of water, bent over the bathroom sink with Erwin stroking his back right along the notches of his spine the way Levi likes. “Doctor Zoe, she was the same as always.”

 

Erwin hums, his large hand settling in a warm puddle on Levi’s lower back, pulling up the t-shirt so that he can paw at the bare skin underneath. Leaning in close to Levi’s left ear, the man whispers, “Thank you for trusting me,” and kneads those thick fingers into Levi’s flank. Levi whines, cut off by another violent wave of sputtering and coughing. 

 

“Three hours?” He asks when it’s finally done, raising his arms obediently for Erwin to peel the sweat-dampened t-shirt from his body, the chill of the air intense post-emesis. Erwin is bare-chested as well, having caught most of Levi’s initial spewing in his own shirt to save the bedsheets from certain doom, and tugs Levi to land against his bosom. Still reeling in dehydration, Levi goes, throwing his arms around the man’s chest for support.

 

“Less than three, from start to finish.” Erwin slips his hands under Levi’s armpits and lifts him. “Wrap your legs around me.”

 

He does as he’s told, and Erwin carries him not back to bed as he expected, but to the kitchen, setting an initially wobbly Levi on the counter. The scent of coffee still lingers, there’s even a few ounces in the bottom of the pot that Dr. Zoe brought with her, so he closes his eyes against the fresh churn of his stomach at the smell, only opening them again when Erwin nudges the rim of a plastic cup against his lips. 

 

“This is disgusting,” he says with feeble disdain, still so drained from yesterday, but Erwin gave it to him so he finishes it anyway, hating every ounce of the salty, lukewarm concoction. “One poisoning not enough? Need me to shit my pants next?”

 

“It’s baking soda and water, to calm your stomach,” Erwin explains, taking the empty cup after pecking Levi’s cheek. “The Zofran is not doing much for you anymore. Give it a little while and we’ll see about some toast. No butter, though.”

 

“What’s the fucking point of toast without butter?” Levi snarls weakly with a touch of playfulness rather than menacing. 

 

“Alright,  _ Paula. _ ”

 

Levi swipes at him and purposefully misses, and Erwin grabs his ankle and holds it out so that he can slide between Levi’s legs again, which loop around his waist, similar to the way he carried Levi a minute ago, knotting his hands together in the middle of Levi’s back. Erwin has sweatpants, yeah, but Levi’s only in socks and boxers, and the unequal level of dress is making him feel vulnerable in the enticing warmth.

 

“I’m glad to see you in good spirits, katze,” he murmurs against Levi’s forehead. “I really am.”

 

“Mmm,” Levi responds, arching further into Erwin. He’s never seen the man like this before, and he’s  _ more _ than liking what he sees. Before, he’d considered himself neither gay nor straight, more like vehemently disgusted by sex in general, but now…. Now he’s got his face pressed into the golden abundance of hair between Erwin’s huge pectorals, Erwin so tight against his body between his legs that Levi can count the hairs of the thick happy trail, Erwin’s arms vice-like around him, murmuring to him... all he wants is for Erwin to lay him down and fuck him. Previous disinterest doesn’t serve as ignorance, and he knows  _ what _ it would mean for Erwin to fuck him, where Erwin’s cock would go, but there’s a foreign fire lighting up his belly and making his heart pound that fills him with  _ need _ .

 

Levi takes more water as Erwin gives it to him, and then Levi gets carried back to the bed after choking down a whole piece of dry toast, all unhappy grumbles over his want of butter and being referred to as a celebrity chef for it. Erwin tucks him in but doesn’t climb in himself, much to Levi’s displeasure, but he chooses not to say anything about  _ that _ , instead asking about the night before.

 

Levi can’t trust his memory of the three-hour ordeal that Erwin calls ‘ _ serotonin syndrome _ .’ First, because it felt like days, not hours; an endless falling sensation, his body out of his control and his mind vacate from his body after a certain point. Every little jerk and twitch and spasm fired through his nerves at tenfold the speed of light, slamming into his brain and shattering like fine china, leaving painful shrapnel lodged in his frontal lobe. It was immobilisingly sleep-like, though he can recall every dunk into the ice bath, every shift made by his body and his tingling nerves, receptive to every little touch, hypersensitive and hyperreflexive. Dr. Zoe had poked him plenty to prove that point. He might have been locked in his brain during the worst of it, but his body still responded to her prodding instinctually.

 

Secondly, he can’t trust his memory because while he was aware of the physical sensations, his brain had filled in the gaps of the visual. Gruesomely. Looking back now, it’s obvious that what he saw wasn’t real, but at the time, helpless and unable to move even in his dreamy state, it was reality to him. Three identical Erwins with mouths like sharks, pulling on him, fighting for nibbles with, ‘ _ He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, and I’ll do with him what I can _ .’ 

 

Over all, it’s easier to trust in Erwin’s account, Erwin who has been nothing but good to him (firm and consistent and  _ good _ ) and forget about the chilling memories that are his own.

 

As much as he wants to ask Erwin  _ why _ , he doesn’t. Day after next, he feels rested, hydrated enough to start stretching out his sore muscles again, so under Erwin’s firm grip, they loosen Levi up as much as his repairing body will allow. Secretly (well maybe not so secretly with the way his ear burns), Levi enjoys having Erwin’s heavy hands guiding him like that, and the way those callused fingers linger, he thinks Erwin enjoys it, too.

 

Levi’s hair is still damp when Erwin gives him a neat pile of clothing, this time including jeans and tennis shoes. His brows furrow, and he looks at the man, who informs him that they’re going into the city, and even though Levi’s heart immediately begins to pound and the thought of it makes him feel ill, he dresses and they depart. 

 

Erwin lets Levi lay in his lap most of the way, only sitting him up once they’re inside city limits, instructing Levi to put up his hood and keep his chain from view. It’s a drizzly day, he won’t be out of the ordinary covered up like this. Levi is obedient, then he leans his head against his door and closes his eyes after a few minutes. Looking at the city, seeing it hasn’t changed when Levi is a new person now, it feels wrong. Everything he’s been through-- and the same buildings stand, the same graffiti marks the streets they drive through, the same beggars with the same signs on the same corners. Levi wants to scream. His life is so  _ different _ now-- it’s unreal that everything else is stagnant. He’s aged what feels like years and here time seems to have barely passed at all. Closing his eyes tighter, he shuts out the images, thinks instead of a little red-bricked house with white shutters and black roofing that he feels he’s lived his whole life within.

 

On-street parking downtown is severely limited, but there’s little permit-only lots in the wide alleys between buildings, and when Erwin pulls into one and turns off the truck, Levi opens his eyes to look around. He’s been here before maybe, though he can’t remember why or when or with whom anymore, and it doesn’t really matter.

 

Erwin comes around to Levi’s side of the truck and opens the door, reaching over to unclick Levi’s seatbelt. “Tenants have a private entrance here in the back, totally inaccessible from the tavern. You won't be seen.”

 

Levi nods, nervous, but he’s still frozen until Erwin takes his right hand and interlocks their fingers, Erwin’s extra two flat on the spaces where Levi’s are missing. Two  _ snaps _ and Levi finds himself on his feet out of the truck before he realises it, receiving a kiss to his forehead while Erwin shuts the door behind him.

 

“Erwin,” he mutters, tucking himself into the man’s bosom where they stand between vehicles. He absolutely does not want to go in now. It’s overwhelming in a way he doesn’t understand and he doesn’t want to think about it. If he’s guessing correctly, this is the headquarters for the Organisation. “Erwin, I want to go home.”

 

A strong arm encircles his shoulders, squeezes. “Do you trust me, katze?”

 

Levi nods, “God, yes.”

 

“Then, _ trust me _ .” It’s a gentle scolding. “I’m here to show you off, so be perfect for me, and I’ll take you home. Otherwise, I’ll leave you with Nile for the night.”

 

Levi looks up at Erwin, question at the ready, but Erwin lays a finger on Levi’s lips, blowing out a long  _ shhh _ . All he can do is nod his agreement, and Erwin kisses his forehead again, sliding his lips down his nose, and then finally slanting his mouth of Levi’s own, moving the silencing finger over to Levi’s scar of a missing ear, cupping the back of his skull, locking Levi in place, as if he were fighting this. He can feel Erwin kneading his scalp where the hair is shorn while licking the seam of his mouth, but Levi can’t bring himself to open up because he’s never been kissed before. It’s over soon anyway. Erwin tugs Levi along by their joined hands, and Levi follows. 

 

It looks like a regular apartment building, and Levi can’t quite get over that. Years ago, he remembers being at a compound in the middle of nowhere, deserted in the same way as the little brick house.  _ This _ , though, is the city’s  _ downtown _ , for fuck’s sake. Erwin takes them to the back door, unlocks it with his key, takes them into the tenant foyer, past a row of mailboxes in the wall, to a staircase that goes both up and down. A scratched sign tells him that there's a laundry room in the basement here, and three more floors above the bar. 

 

The staircase up to the second floor is empty, Levi’s ears filled with the thumping of his heart and the rushing of his blood. He feels sick and wants to go home. But he’s being pulled forward, led like a lamb to slaughter, all because Erwin says to trust him, so he follows.

 

The chatter that echos into the stairwell when Erwin opens the door dies instantly, and Levi breaks out in a sweat, suddenly conscious of where Erwin is holding his hand with their fingers laced. All he can hear is his own blood and breathing, and a single, inquisitive, “Is this him?”

 

Erwin stops their progress before Levi can see who is in the hallway, and Levi pushes up against Erwin’s back like a shy child trying to hide in the apron of its mother. It rumbles through Erwin’s back when he says, “Yes, this is him. Come on, katze, introduce yourself.”

 

Levi looks around Erwin at the pair of people. There’s a tall moustached man, taller than Erwin, looking down his nose through thick, sandy blonde bangs at Levi, and another person at the man’s side just out of sight. As much as he doesn’t want to, Levi does what he’s told, stepping around Erwin so that he can lean back into Erwin’s chest. The person at the taller man’s side is also blonde, more white than gold, and she smiles at Levi. “Hi!” she says, a little too cheery for Levi’s tastes. “I’m Nanaba. This is Mike.”

 

Mike doesn’t move at all except the flare of his nostrils and it unsettles Levi for some reason. Levi looks down at his feet, grunts out, “Hello.”

 

“Mm,” Nanaba hums softly, and in his peripherals, Levi can see Mike scrutinising him and nodding, arms folding themselves over his barrel of a torso. “Let us take him off your hands, Erwin. Mike says you’ve gotten hardly any winks lately.”

 

“You loudmouth,” Erwin chides, releasing Levi’s hand were they joined and pushing Levi forward with firm pressure on the small of his back. “I don’t see why not. I need to brief and be briefed anyway, so I’ll come get my boy as soon as I’m done.”

 

Nanaba, with a smile, reaches out and to take both of Levi’s hands, but Levi makes fists and looks over his shoulder at Erwin, sharply asking, “ _ What _ ?”

 

“You’ll be fine,” is all Erwin says before he’s disappearing back into the stairwell, and Levi’s heart starts to pound again. Trusting Erwin is one thing, but he doesn’t know these people. 

 

“Come on,” Nanaba says with a beaconing wave, leading Levi, reluctant, away. The man, Mike, takes up the rear, causing the hairs to stand on the back of Levi’s neck in heightened alert. He doesn’t know them, he doesn’t trust them, and it’s good and well that Erwin knows them, but Levi _doesn’t fucking_ _know them_. He can see Nanaba’s lips moving, but all he hears is his own rushed breathing. It’s a good thing that Erwin keeps his nails cut, or else he would be tearing holes in his palms with how much fight-or-flight is pulsing through his veins. 

 

It’s not far to the end of the hallway, and then Nanaba opens a door and steps in first. With Mike at his back, Levi has no choice but to enter, only moving in enough for Mike to follow and close the door behind him. It looks like a normal studio apartment, parts hidden with curtains on rails in the ceiling acting as room dividers, and the whole thing gets him all the more wound up. Is anything in this place what he expects? Why is it all so painfully  _ inconspicuous _ ? 

 

Nanaba is in the kitchenette fiddling with an electric kettle and Mike is standing guard at the door, across from Levi, with his arms still crossed. Levi mimics his posture, but pulls his shoulders in to take up less space, waiting defensive for the next move, whereas Mike looks large and threatening. 

 

“So-- oh, it’s lavender tea, by the way,” Nanaba says when she comes over, holding out a steaming mug to Levi with a smile. He takes it in one hand, recrosses his arms, doesn’t drink. “You were born on Christmas. What was that like every year?”

 

Levi cocks his head, staring at her with a blank expression, the blank one that Erwin never likes to look too long at. 

 

Nanaba seems to read his mind, unbothered. “I mean, did you celebrate both or was it either-or?”

 

The mug is starting to burn his hands clasped the way it is, so he takes it by the rim. “Both,” he surrenders, stealing another glance up at Mike, whose nostrils keep flaring. Nanaba sees that and chuckles.

 

“I was born on my parent’s anniversary,” she says, as if this is a friendly chat between acquaintances. “It’s always nice to meet other people who have to share their birthday with an event.”

 

Levi doesn’t have a response and doesn’t bother to think of one, and the woman stops trying to engage him in conversation, take the initiative for something one-sided. He doesn't feel as threatened now, but he doesn't move either, just stands there with his mug watching Mike watch him. Nanaba has done all the talking, making Levi wonder if Mike is inferior to her, the  _ way _ that he himself is to Erwin. After all, Erwin had explained to him that some of the Organisation members worked in close-knit pairs like this to ‘ _ maximise efficiency _ ’. The man’s nostrils flare again-- he is sniffing, Levi realises, and he scrunches his nose at the action. The words bypass his filter, “Is this your dog or something?”

 

Mike’s eyebrows shoot up beneath his bangs, and Nanaba lets out a squeak of, “Huh?”

 

“No,” Mike says, uncrosses his arms and stands akimbo. One of those large hands comes up, fingers snap twice, and Levi jolts before stilling himself and bristling. Nanaba brings herself to Mike’s side, quarter-turned away from Levi, but he can still see the expectant expression on her face, and he understands he’s got it all wrong. Mike, smirking at Levi’s reaction to his show of power, lays that same hand on the top of her head and she begins to descend, until she’s kneeling at his feet, eyes still on his face, waiting patiently, and he praises, “Good girl.”

 

Levi glimpses the corner of her mouth turn up, and he swallows at the display. God, he feels hot all over, hides his mouth behind his forearm. “Does everyone in this place have…,” he motions his head at Nanaba.

 

“A pet?” Mike supplies, and when Levi nods, he chuckles through his nose once and shakes his head, taps Nanaba’s forehead with his index finger. She rises. The show’s over. “Three: you included.”

 

“Has--”  _ Erwin ever had one before? _ But he stops himself, feeling his stomach tighten with a sickening twist of jealousy. He doesn’t want to think about it. Whatever Erwin did before meeting Levi is none of Levi’s business and it’s not like Levi owns the blondie or his feelings. No, he shouldn’t second guess Erwin, who’s been so incredibly good to him, taking him in, taking care of him. Levi should be content with Erwin regardless, because the man shows him kindness and affection and only asks for trusting obedience in return. 

 

Mike doesn’t pry. He goes to the two-person table in the kitchenette and sits in one of the chairs, effectively excusing himself from the conversation. Nanaba talks enough for the both of them, however. Levi stands there, his bristling eventually relaxing, while she rambles on about nothing special in particular, smiling like a puppy who has a new friend to play with. Levi wonders idly if she gets to go on playdates.

 

There’s a soft knock on the door before the handle turns and Erwin invites himself in. Levi immediately abandons Nanaba mid-sentence, passing her the mug, in favour of Erwin, going to his side and practically tucking himself in under one of those muscular arms. Whatever tension was left in his body completely melts away at the contact.

 

“Was he behaved?” Erwin asks as he loops his arm around Levi, squeezing the far shoulder in his grip before the hand travels to splay on Levi’s nape. 

 

“He called me a dog,” Mike says plainly, boredom in his voice as he waves his hand dismissively. “Unintentionally. No harm done.”

 

After the few traded words, Erwin leads Levi out and into the hallway with a firm hand on Levi’s scruff for the threat of control, ready to squeeze at any moment. A few doors down and across, they stop to unlock the door, and then he steers Levi in.

 

It’s  _ cramped _ . It’s the same size of the apartment they just left, but Erwin has stuffed this place with bookshelves, wardrobes, and lockers all pressed against the walls, losing a good chunk of his perimeter floor space. What’s left is stolen by a large dining table laden with folders and folded laptops, a few monitors hovering around the head of the table where there’s a leather office chair. Safely under the table and out of the way are two storage benches, but Levi doubts that this place sees much company. It’s not a wreck but the disorder grates on his nerves, puts him ill at ease. At the far end of the studio space, under the lone window, is a large, albeit  _ ancient _ tan leather couch under a pile of wrinkled blankets. At one end of the couch stands a closed door. Levi hopes it’s a bathroom.

 

“This is your new home starting tomorrow,” Erwin informs him. 

 

“Is this your idea of a bachelor pad?” Levi treads to the window carefully, kneeling on the couch cushions to unlock and open it. It’s still dreary outside, but the fresh air feels good, and he takes off his hood to soak it in. Since stepping foot in this building, he’s been on edge to some degree, and only now does he feel like himself again. Levi crosses his arms on the back of the couch, rests his chin there, grateful that at least Erwin’s room has a nice view of the street and not the alley. 

 

There’s people underneath umbrellas going in and out of establishments, and it would be so easy for him to yell for their attention. Beside him, the cushion valleys under weight, and Erwin takes the same pose as Levi, studying the scene below as well with their elbows touching.

 

“That’s a really good delicatessen.” Erwin points to a caddy-corner shop with a classic red and white checkered awning over the doorway. Through the gray air, Levi can make out a person browsing at the counter. “We’ll go, if you want.”

 

“Really?” Levi asks, more enthusiastically than he intends, but a large amount of what they’ve eaten for however long now has come from a box or a can, and the thought of fresh soppressata makes his mouth water. 

 

“If you continue to behave. Otherwise you’ll spend the night with Nile.”

 

Levi’s heard that name twice now, takes the bait, turning to the blonde. “Who is Nile?”

 

Erwin chuckles and looks right back. “He’s our resident expert on manners.”

 

“In layman’s terms.” Levi doesn’t understand the point Erwin is trying to make with his cryptic statement and focuses on the traffic below.

 

“That  _ is _ layman’s terms.” Erwin gets up from the couch. “You’ll meet him soon.”

 

“You calling me classless?”

 

“I prefer ‘ _ unrefined _ .’” 

 

Levi scowls but doesn’t look away from the window. He listens to the clattering of Erwin organising, but doesn’t feel compelled to help just yet. The streets that he couldn’t bear to look at twenty minutes ago hold him captive now, enchanting him with the life therein. Steady dripping, that specific noise of water splattering on pavement, overpowers him.

 

“Pay attention,” Erwin says once he’s brought order to his table. Levi twists to face him. Erwin doesn’t look at him as he speaks. “One snap for ‘ _ stop _ ,’ two snaps for ‘ _ come here _ ,’ three for ‘ _ go _ .’”

 

“Okay?” Levi turns his back to Erwin, still enamored with the street’s going-ons. “What for?”

 

“Trust me, boy. Repeat what I just told you.”

 

Levi does, word for word.

 

“Good; again.”

 

That’s how it goes for a solid sixty seconds, Levi repeating the phrase over and over at Erwin’s command, until Erwin stops commanding him. For a moment, Levi thinks he should say it anyway, but decides not to. Erwin, soon after that, says, “Good boy, katze, now come help.”

 

They bring order to the rest of the little apartment, Erwin every so often asking Levi to repeat that phrase, and it doesn’t take long for Levi to recite it mindlessly. 

 

“What’s it for?” He finally asks when they’re done. The task was neither difficult nor time consuming, just tedious having to reshuffle papers into files and put them away. But it was welcomed. There’s so little to do at the cottage in the country.

 

“Trust me.”

 

“Yeah, I  _ get it _ .” How many times will Erwin answer with that? Levi pulls one of the benches away from the table and slides onto it as the blondie settles into his office chair and opens one of the laptops, a monitor to his left coming to life as he does. Whatever Erwin is working on soon comandeers all of his attention.

 

Levi gets up, paces, judges the spines of books on their shelves, feeling restless now that Erwin's attention isn't even an option. The books are not ordered alphabetically, by title, or by author, all thrown there up any which way to get them off the floor. He considers giving them more care. 

 

“Nile wants to get his hands on you,” Erwin confesses as he takes the papers spit out by the wireless printer in one of the wall lockers and closes the locker carefully. “Can you be perfect for me?”

 

“Yes.” Levi isn’t as sure as he sounds, but he doesn’t have the option of failing Erwin.

 

“He can’t take you if I don’t let him,” Erwin reassures Levi, and now Levi feels even more uncertain. Nile teaches  _ manners _ , whatever that implies-- does that mean a ruler slapping the back of Levi’s wrist? God, he hopes not. He had enough of that at boarding school.

 

“Erwin,” he drawls on a long breath, coming up beside him. “What’s this about?”

 

Erwin smiles at him and leans down to kiss the top of his head just as a firm knock sounds from the front door. “Are you ready to be shown off?”

 

Levi nods despite the lump in his throat and the adrenaline dumping into his blood. He has no idea what to expect, what’s coming, but he trusts Erwin. He has to. There’s no other way he’s going to make it through today if he doesn’t.

 

Erwin lets into their space an average sized man, dark shaggy mohawk and equally unkempt goatee, with the sweep of his arm. 

 

The first thing this Nile guy says is, “Finally gonna keep this place clean with a little pet to help out?”, and Levi dislikes him already.

 

Levi crosses his arms, stance defensive, but Erwin shakes his head with a little grin and snaps twice. “Nile, this is Levi.”

 

Drawn by the command, Levi comes to stand at Erwin’s opposite side, as far from Nile as he can get while still obeying. 

 

“Levi Ackerman.” Nile rubs his chin, looking him up and down, making him feel like a piece of meat. When Erwin takes a few steps back, Levi doesn’t dare follow; Erwin told him to be perfect, snapped his fingers to bring Levi to this spot, and Erwin didn’t say that Levi could move yet. 

 

Nile reaches behind his back and his hand returns with a long, thin dressing whip. He taps the tip end of it to the underside of Levi’s chin, forcing Levi’s gaze to the ceiling, and even when the pressure disappears, Levi leaves his head leaned back, though his jaw is clenched tight enough to crack a molar and he keeps reminding himself that this is for Erwin. To make Erwin proud. Nile is new and unknown to Levi, and with the instrument in his hands, Nile is strictly a threat in Levi’s brain.

 

His senses kick into overdrive when he feels Nile within his personal bubble, and Levi almost breaks his promise to Erwin when he feels a hand reaching under the collar of his sweatshirt. Nimbly, the trespassing hand digs out his chain, dragging it out by the padlock, and then the hand disappears. The whip taps Levi’s forehead and he lowers his head. The fucker is out of reach now but Levi still itches to claw out those beady eyes from that goat-looking face. 

 

“What did he do to earn a transport chain?” Nile asks, the whip sliding down from Levi’s forehead to rest on the object in question. Levi has forgotten all about the weight of it until now, and it suddenly feels as if it weighs ten-thousand pounds, so he straightens his back subtly and closes his eyes.

 

“ _ This _ ,” Erwin says, and Levi guesses that he’s pointing to his neck where the little teeth marks have since sealed and faded from red to pink. He can’t hide the embarrassed flushing creeping up his neck at the reminder of how poorly he’s behaved in the past.

 

Nile prods at Levi’s lips with the whip, so Levi swallows his repulsion and opens his mouth, letting Nile tap against each of his canines. “Perhaps these should be removed.” Then, the whip slaps the bottom of his chin and Levi closes his mouth to keep from swearing.

 

“He’s learned his lesson.” Hearing Erwin talk about him like this stings, but Levi keeps his eyes closed, mindful to keep his face flat to hide his discomfort while he does. He can feel cool air along the right side of his neck and face where Nile has lifted his hair.

 

“Shit, that is unsettling,” Nile whispers and Levi’s hair falls back. He can’t help the heat along his face, the welling behind his eyelids,  _ like a pitiful crybaby _ , he thinks. For now, at least, the whip is absent from his body, and Levi takes it as a consolation alongside the insult. “Only a creepy bastard like  _ you _ could like that, Erwin.”

 

“He’s  _ my _ boy, after all, Nile.”

 

Levi opens his eyes at that, wanting to look at Erwin but staying still, waiting. He wants this to be over so that they can go home and Erwin can put him to bed. It’s only midmorning but he’s exhausted already from the stress of his time with Mike, Nanaba, Nile, and being paraded. Levi doesn’t even care about the delicatessen, and he would wrench himself out from this inspection if not for the promise that he’d be left with Nile for the night. The man flaunts a tool for equestrian taming as if it can’t cut through tender human skin with a flicked wrist, fondling Levi with it in front of Erwin-- he doesn’t want to find out what Nile would do if they were alone.

 

“Wild as he is, I’m glad you’ve got him.” Nile moves around Levi, and then both men are behind him, and it takes all his effort to be still and hold his position. His brain is an alarm bell of  _ danger! danger! danger _ ! with Nile there and Levi vulnerable. If Erwin is willing to lend him to this man for a night, what would Erwin let him get away with  _ right now _ ? “I’d’ve beat him to death twice over.”

 

“Oh, Levi is an abnormal case. He wouldn’t have thrived under you.”

 

Nile hums indignantly, and Levi can hear fingers grasping paper. Eventually, “Is that so?”

 

Erwin must nod, because Nile says, “Yeah,  _ fuck _ , you’re the best for him, then.”

 

“Did you just  _ compliment _ me?”

 

Nile scoffs. “Fuck outta here. If you beat me out for this promotion, Erwin, I’m going to fucking retire.”

 

“Don’t be a sore loser. Mike’s still got his hand in the pot, too.”

 

“That’s right, he did that one thing with the other one, huh.” Nile clears his throat. “It’s gonna be you anyway, or else they wouldn’t have given you a pretty little pet like this.”

 

“He is awfully  _ pretty _ , isn’t he.” Levi can feel the heat on his face shift from embarrassment to something else, something much less innocent, because that was a statement, not a question. Erwin thinks he’s pretty, and while it’s a feminine sort of word, he doesn’t mind. Fuck.  _ Erwin thinks he’s pretty _ .

 

“When are you taking him up to Darius?”

 

“Not until he’s settled in here. He had a few minutes alone with Mike and Nanaba, and I think he only barely survived that.”

 

“He needs some socialising then? Let’s take him out.” Nile and Erwin move into Levi’s field of vision, headed toward the front door. “We’ll get a group together-- no one ever looks at every single person in a group.”

 

Erwin opens the door and the two men carry their conversation out into the hallway.

 

Levi relaxes immediately, doubles over with hands on knees, head hanging, taking in lungful after lungful of air, only straightening when Erwin reenters the apartment alone a moment later. He comes at Levi quick, all predatory glint, and Levi briefly freezes in fear, something instinctual reignites in his brain that screams  _ danger! _ He thinks he’d done well-- did he not?

 

“Perfect,” Erwin breaths, one arm slinking around Levi’s waist, his other hand grabbing the back of Levi’s head, securing him in place. And for the second time that morning, Erwin kisses him. Hungrily now. Levi, unsure what to do, opens his mouth, and Erwin takes the offering like a starving man, stuffing his tongue in so forcefully that Levi draws his breath from the air Erwin exhales. Somehow, his arms end up around Erwin’s neck, and Erwin’s lifting him, and fuck, they’re on the couch and Erwin is heavy between his legs, and it all feels so good.

 

“My perfect little katze, my good boy,” Erwin praises between kisses, framing Levi’s face in those big hands, holding Levi. Even under the open window, it feels hot, pleasantly hot, and it occurs to Levi that this is  _ lust _ . Not knowing what to do adds to the exasperation, and Levi surrenders to a long and loud whine, starting high in his throat and working its way into a moan from his chest. He's so hot and so desperate and it feels so good with Erwin between his thighs kissing him that when one of those large hands slither from his face down his body to cup his pelvis, Levi juts up into it with abandon. 

 

“Fuck,  _ Erwin, _ ” Levi half gasps, half moans, totally bewitched. But just as quickly as this attack began, it ends, Erwin withdrawing with a press of his lips to Levi's forehead. 

 

“Shh,” Erwin soothes, the palm at Levi’s crotch leaving after one final bit of pressure, departing just as he’s feeling wrecked with need. The death of his mother halted his sexual awakening before it began, and the last ten years have left him without enough desire to act on what little slivers of arousal migrated in, but something about Erwin makes him  _ tighten _ . Even when he thought he’d hated the man, there had been attraction, and now there’s hot embers nurtured by affection he gets.

 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

 

“Be a good boy,” Erwin says, standing, looming. “Have a nap.”

 

Levi nods dumbly, too lost in a haze to move properly, and thankfully Erwin unfolds one of the blankets from the back of the couch and drapes it over him to substitute the missing warmth. He’s been off any sort of medication since Erwin poisoned him, so he’s not as sleepy as he used to be and there’s no nap to be had. Instead, he stays where Erwin wants him, waiting.

 

It’s mundane, but not in the same way as the house in the country. Levi watches Erwin type, the printer kicking to life every so often. It’s not as passive as reading and reading aloud, Levi decides, and that’s what makes it different from being at home with Erwin. Here, the blondie is thinking, he’s orchestrating-- Levi can see the figurative cogs meshing and moving gears in Erwin’s head. 

 

“Careful; you’ll blow a fuse,” Levi warns. Erwin’s staring at his laptop, left foot bouncing under the table, growling at a problem. He cuts his eyes at Levi before turning back to his screens. Being ignored is pretty low on Levi’s list of  _ likes _ when it comes to Erwin, but he can also tell this is important for him and doesn't make demands. Erwin works for a while but Levi can't even begin to guess how long-- long enough for Levi to nod off a few times and jerk awake. Someone knocks on the door before coming inside so Levi childishly feigns sleep, Erwin gives whoever it is the stack of papers stapled together neatly (he’d watched them get sifted together half a dozen times, he knows they’re neat), and the tension seems to leave the room with it. 

 

Levi rises without hesitation when commanded, follows Erwin down to the tenant foyer and stands with his back against one of the mailboxes, hood up, collar out of sight, and arms folded over his chest. Being in clothing again after this long feels oddly restricting. His jeans feel too tight on his hips, his feet are sweating in his tennis shoes. But he’s glad for the sweatshirt; Erwin is the only person so reverent of his scars, praises them and calls them smooth even though they feel rough and ugly under Levi’s own fingertips. Erwin tells him that he only thinks so because he became acquainted with them when they were scabs. Under his hood, Levi has his hair pushed over the right side, draping just thick enough to hide his missing ear, because Erwin is the only person who doesn’t find it unpleasant either.

 

Mike comes down the stairs first, Nanaba in tow. Under the giant’s jacket, Levi can make out the impression of holsters sneaking pistols under his arms, and it makes Levi itch for his own guns. He’ll ask Erwin what happened to all of his stuff later. He didn’t have much anyway, at least nothing that couldn’t easily be replaced since his mother’s possessions are locked away in government storage somewhere under the pretense of ‘ _ evidence _ .’ Nile comes down, and then the quintet goes for lunch as promised. It’s calm and easy, even though about halfway through the meal Levi gets the feeling that it’s a forced kind of easy, meant to keep from overwhelming him any further. Tucked into the corner of the booth with Nanaba at his side and Mike at her’s, Levi eats half his sandwich then picks at the rest, looking petulant the way he’s slumping, but he’s watching.

 

Nanaba is a surprise. His assumption earlier of putting her in charge isn’t unfounded, because even out here like this, she _ seems _ dominant over Mike. She talks for the both of them, Mike sitting back and humming along when appropriate. At first, Levi thinks she’s just acting independently, but he looks closer and understands. The pair are communicating nonverbally through their linked hands on the tabletop and while he can’t crack the code of strokes and taps passing between them, he observes it, takes it in. With their dynamic, he almost swears they’re  _ equals _ .

 

That afternoon, driving back to their little domicile, Levi brings it up. He’s got his head on Erwin’s lap, his body curled up against the cold on the bench of the truck, sleeves pulled over his hands. It’s supposed be summer, goddammit he hates living up north with its random little cold spells. Levi rolls onto his back, getting a clear view of the underside of Erwin’s chin as the man drives. “What’s the deal with Nanaba and Mike?”

 

“Hm?” Erwin keeps his eyes on the road.

 

“Well, are they, ah… like us?”

 

“She’s his bitch, if that’s what you mean.”

 

Levi’s never heard something so crass from Erwin before, and it takes him a moment to recover and ask, “The way I’m your stray?”

 

Erwin finally glances down at him briefly with a knowing snicker. “Haven’t you learned that I don’t lie to you?”

 

Levi swallows, feels hot and brings his hands to cover his mouth. It’s muffled when he clarifies, “I just don’t get them. Why does he let her do, just, whatever? Lets her talk for him. She even left early without  _ asking _ him. But this morning, he showed me he was in charge.”

 

“Are you asking me why he trusts her?” Condescending. 

 

“No!” Levi huffs. It’s not envy, he reminds himself. He wants to reach that kind of point with Erwin, wants to ask if they’ll get there, but he’s stumbling to get his point across. “I meant, well, how did they get  _ there _ ? How do we-- nevermind.”

 

He thinks Erwin has dropped it too, but a beat after Levi resettles on his side, content to ride with the cacophony of gravel under tires, Erwin says, “They’re married.”

 

Levi flops right onto his back again, an open mouth ready with ten questions, but Erwin cuts him off. “Hanji, Nile, Mike, and I came in at the same time in college. We were all friends in high school, but those two were  _ sweethearts _ .”

 

The way Erwin pauses there makes Levi’s stomach drop. He’s unsure if he  _ wants _ to understand them now. Erwin looks like college was a long time ago and digging through that much history is good for no one. “Well, about a year in as recruits, my… my godson was born.”

 

Levi really  _ does not want to hear this now.  _ Nothing good is about to come of this.

 

“Anencephaly. He died within the hour.” Erwin clears his throat, presses on. “It showed up in the anatomy scan halfway through her pregnancy. We all knew what would happen, but with abortion overturned, there was no preventing it-- preventing the birth, sparing that  _ whole event _ .” 

 

“Erwin--”

 

“You asked, boy, now listen,” Erwin snaps, still keeping his eyes on the road. Reprimanding Levi has him charging forward in determination now. “This kind of thing is what we fight against. No one should be made to go through with, with  _ that _ , with burying  _ their baby _ . Nanaba killed herself a week later in their bathtub, but the paramedics managed to resuscitate her, and took her to the hospital. Mike called me and we followed in the car, but when we got there, they refused to release information, and things got carried away,  _ understandably _ . Mike was arrested for assault.

 

“Nile and I had no legal relation to Nanaba so we were sitting ducks, and by the time Mike was released on bail the next week, she’d been involuntarily held,  _ sterilised _ , and thrown into a mental institute.” As if to himself, Erwin mutters, “God, the things we did to get her out of there.”

 

Levi feels proper sick at this point. Not for himself, but for her, and those like her. Erwin had told him before about the government committing these sorts of crimes against its own citizens, but hearing this, it’s too much. It’s easier to live with reality compartmentalised away rather than accept it, but there’s no choice now because Nanaba is real and tangible, not just another faceless story. 

 

“We got her out and she was a wreck. The drugs they had her on-- brick walls are more lively than she was. Nanaba knew Mike was part of the Organisation, but she was uninvolved and had no interest in joining. This was not the life she wanted.” Erwin shifts, lets one of his hands come down to grasp loosely at Levi’s chain. “But Mike goes to Darius in this hail mary and Darius’ interest had already been piqued with this idea of conditioning so he makes an offer. There’s no hesitation to use her as a guinea pig, and Mike just… resurrects her.” 

 

Levi swears Erwin is beaming, but the man doesn’t look down so Levi can’t be sure. “It wasn’t so simple. He had to choose something to make her live for, and it's selfish but he chose himself. Six months of pain and discipline, but he was determined. She was dead, and he played either  _ God _ or  _ Doctor Frankenstein _ , I don't know which, and now she lives.”

 

“Wait, like Frankenstein’s monster?” Levi sits up on his knees, turns, facing Erwin. Seatbelts are overrated. “He rebuilt her? Mentally, I mean. He remade her because he loves her. Is that what you’re doing to me?”

 

A muscle pops in Erwin’s jaw, and he pulls them over on the side of the gravel driveway. They’re just shy of the cattle guard on the crest. Erwin puts the truck in park and climbs out, comes to Levi’s side, wrenches the door open. The man takes Levi by the chain and Levi falls backward out of the truck, landing hard on his coccyx and sprawling out in shock. 

 

“Look at me,” Erwin sneers and Levi does, unmoving otherwise. When Erwin speaks, it’s slow, one word at a time. “This isn’t romantic. She  _ kills _ for him. He sics her on a target and she brings him a body, regardless of the danger to herself. This isn’t a fairytale about true love and destiny,  _ boy _ , and you need to get that into your empty little head.”

 

Levi swallows, lets out a gasp as he struggles to sit up. Erwin snaps his fingers once and the command ‘ _ stop _ ’ rings in Levi’s head. He drops back down.

 

“Katze, my darling boy.” Erwin squats before him, reaches out with one hand to card his fingers through dark hair, suddenly gentle, genuine. “You want to get to that point, don’t you?”

 

“Yes. I want you to trust me like that.” The pain racing up his spine makes him sound desperate, but he doesn’t regret the way it comes across. “I’d do anything for you.”

 

Erwin raises his brows like he’s impressed, slips his hand under Levi’s head to cradle it. “What use to me is a weak thing like you?”

 

_ I’m not weak _ , Levi wants to spit, but he can’t, because Erwin never lies to him. Instead, he promises, “I’d gut myself as long as your hand was on the hilt with mine.”

 

“Reckless,” Erwin curses like a proclamation of love, drops Levi’s head. “You want to die just like your mother?”

 

“I’ll be-- I’ll do anything  _ you _ want,” Levi fires back, wrapping his arms around Erwin’s ankle and pulling closer to the man to ground himself, in anguish at the images flashing of his mother’s intestines spilling from her body as she tells him she loves him. “ _ Anything, _ Erwin. I was nothing but a stray before you, and you’ve been too good to me.  _ Please _ .”

 

“You’d whore yourself out to me, totally at my disposal, for what? A few kisses and touches?” Erwin mocks in cruelty now, as if Levi is nothing but a toy to play with and the worst part is that he’s  _ right _ . 

 

“Yes,  _ god yes _ , Erwin. I trust you.” There’s no point in lying, there’s no pride to maintain. Levi is nothing but  _ Erwin’s _ .

 

“ _ Reckless _ .” Erwin stands and offers Levi a hand up. The moment before he takes it is tense, but then it’s over, and they get in the truck, Erwin helping him with a mindful brush over Levi’s tailbone. The truck is still running, but Erwin doesn’t immediately keep driving. “Why.”

 

Levi doesn’t need him to specify. “I trust you because you take care of me.” He brings his knees to his chest, holding them with his arms, and presses his face into the crease of his thighs. Secretly he relishes the throb in his coccyx, lets the pain of it put him in his place where Erwin wants him. He feels childish right now, like he’s admitted to having a crush and is waiting on the other person to reciprocate or deny. 

 

Erwin doesn’t deny him. “Why.”

 

“You take care of me because I’m yours.” A hand touches the top of his head, palm flat and claiming, and Levi pulls his head up to look at his captor. “I’m  _ yours _ , Erwin; do with me what you can.”

 

“Including rebuilding you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Erwin goes silent, withdrawing his touch to start driving again, and it makes Levi feel panic. Did he say something wrong? He starts rambling on in justification. “But you're doing it because I need it. I needed something to live for. My life before you was nothing, Erwin. It was a never ending spiral of therapy, medication, and fights. I was directionless before you. You’ve been good to me, fucking good  _ for _ me. I had no goals and nothing to live for and now I have  _ you _ .”

 

Levi rolls onto his belly and turns his face to mutter against the man’s abdomen, “I just want to make you proud.” 

 

Erwin’s left hand comes down and smooths the hair back from his face, carding those fingers through it, making Levi feel at peace again, enough to close his eyes and sigh.

 

;;;

 

Erwin is in awe of his boy. He is tickling Levi's vulnerable underbelly with the point of a knife, and Levi willingly rolls over with the plea of  _ touch me kiss me fuck me _ .

 

After their little  _ show _ on the way to the mountain estate for the last night, Levi becomes an extension of Erwin liken to a puppy, and though less underfoot, he is still just as blindly devoted and smitten. There isn’t much left in the little house besides a few days’ worth of clothes and canned goods, which they bag and toss in the bed of the truck with the cooler from when Erwin bought ice. Levi comes at him with little claws, little pleading eyes, and Erwin takes him to bathe. Eagerness radiates from the boy, the over-exaggerated arching of his back well appreciated as Erwin scrapes the rag over his skin, the little moans of gratitude when Erwin presses hard against a sore muscle. The boy very obviously wants to be fucked, and as much as Erwin wants to steal a taste, his work isn’t finished yet. There is too much more to do.

 

Before leaving the mountain estate, Levi makes the odd request to see the basement one last time, and Erwin allows it. He trudges down, hands in his pockets and mind lost in thought, staring blankly, and then comes back up before Erwin has to call him. Levi never shares why, and Erwin never pries. To open another new chapter, they drive into the city that morning, Levi sitting up, seatbelted, clutching his dog bed cushion to his chest and holding his padlock in his right hand.

 

Erwin slept on his couch before this and there’s no reason to change now that the studio apartment has another occupant. Levi positions his cushion on the floor with care and slides it under the couch to keep it out of the way in the limited floor space, his unpacking done by the single task. This isn’t so much moving for Levi as it is just relocating, because he owns nothing. For three weeks he wore Erwin’s t-shirts and boxers, and the jeans and sweatshirt on the boy’s back are the only clothes that are strictly his, no spare set to put in the wardrobe beside Erwin’s.

 

For most of the morning, Mike has custody of Levi. Erwin should have fucking listened when Hanji told him to wean Levi from the antidepressants, especially after tampering with his body and brain so much, and now Erwin is paying the price for his ignorance. He can’t sleep if Levi is awake, and the past week after the serotonin storm has been hell because Levi abruptly snapped into a strained, almost nonexistent sleep schedule. Mike no doubt has the two in the weights training room on the third floor.  _ That’ll be fun for Levi _ , Erwin thinks, stretched out on his couch as he surrenders to unconsciousness.

 

Mike brings him an exhausted boy that afternoon, after Erwin is satisfactorily caught up on sleep, sitting at his table working on a strategy to capture Kuchel Ackerman’s former colleague as an initiation present for Levi. Nanaba enters his apartment first, holding the door for Mike, who’s got the small noirette nestled in a bridal carry. Levi’s eyes are half-lidded, body limber, breathing even and calm. It looks good on him, and the arrangement becomes a daily occurrence. Erwin sends Levi off with Mike and Nanaba for the morning while he naps, and they bring him back thoroughly tuckered out a few hours later. Levi gets a few minutes on his dog bed to pull himself together before Erwin is calling him over, setting him about menial tasks. Make a pot of coffee, heat the kettle for tea, organise some loose papers, clean this thing  _ although it’s still clean from the last time I told you to clean it _ . Spending time with the other couple seems to solidify submission in the boy. He does everything he’s told with a lowered gaze and gets his kisses when he’s done and asks for nothing in return. 

 

That goes on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Come glorious Sunday, Erwin wakes up with a message on his mobile from Mike that bleeds a grin over his face. The gift is ready.

 

“I’ve got something special for you,” Erwin says, reaching down toward to dog bed to coax Levi from his light slumber by brushing knuckles over his cheek. At first, Levi jerks into consciousness, tense from his toes to his brows, and then slowly allows his body to relax when he realises there is no danger. He goes so limp that Erwin wonders if he went back to sleep, but then he begins to shift.

 

“Huh?” Levi sits up, groggy, rubbing his eyes with both hands and turning to blink at Erwin, gaze level and dead and underlined with bruised bagging.

 

“You’ve been doing so well for me.” Erwin rolls over and cups Levi’s jaw in one hand, his thumb stroking over the obligingly parted lips. “You’ll like what I have for you. Can you be perfect again, katze?”

 

“Of course.” Levi seems to jump to attention, eager for another opportunity to showcase his obedience and earn a reward. Erwin sits up with a stretch and leans in to kiss Levi’s forehead.

 

“Go get the weapons case from the bookshelf there.” When Levi comes back with it, Erwin opens it and twists it around to show the contents to his boy, whose eyes widen from where he sits on his haunches between Erwin’s knees. “Pick it up.”

 

“Erwin…,” Levi swallows and flicks his eyes up, the glassiness being chased away by pulsing, lively fright. “This is….”

 

“Pick it  _ up _ ,” Erwin warns and Levi does quickly, staring at the blade in his shaking hands. It’s not the exact one that killed Kuchel Ackerman, but a similar make, and Erwin can practically see Levi swimming through the memory and drowning in it. “I’ve got something very special for you and you’ll need this to enjoy it. Alright?”

 

Levi nods because he has no other choice.

 

After they dress, they forego a meal and Erwin takes Levi down into the basement, past the laundry room and down the hallway formally denoted as storage. It’s a narrow hallway, dim with every other fluorescent bulb switched off. Mike waves from the last doorway on the right, slips a key into the lock when they get closer. Erwin comes in first, dragging his hesitant boy after him, Mike bringing up the rear and closing the door behind them. The room is small, reinforced to prevent sound escaping, but with the tavern on the next floor up, it can only be utilised in off hours like this early morning. Tarps are already on the floor and up on the ceiling and walls, a floodlight standing in the corner to drench the room in orange. When they’re done here, they’ll load everything into Erwin’s truck, drive out to the countryside, and have a good burning. Mike passes them each a pair of latex gloves which they don while studying Erwin’s gift to Levi.

 

Tied with hands in reverse prayer to a wooden chair in the middle of the room is the man, Jeremiah, ear-plugged, blindfolded, and gagged. When he spoonfed Levi the idea that Kuchel Ackerman had been forced into her vocal government support, this is the man Erwin pinned all of the blame on, distorting the truth to make it plausible. If this man hadn’t been strong-arming Kuchel into her actions, she would have never been an Organisation target, Levi would have never been tortured, and Kuchel would not have died. It’s  _ this man’s _ fault that Levi’s life is so fucked up. 

 

“Look, katze, don’t you like my gift?” Erwin turns his back on the man to face his boy, his pale and scared boy. Oh, no, no, no. Erwin offers the hilt of the intimidating knife that he'd carried for him. “Come on, Levi, Jeremiah is responsible for everything you’ve suffered. You’ll feel good once it’s over, I promise. I’ll guide you through it.”

 

Levi looks up at him, pleading, “I can’t do this.”

 

What flashes across Erwin’s face with his spike of anger makes Levi’s eyes widen before looking down quickly and taking the knife, and that’s the end of it. Erwin nods, moves around to watch at Mike’s side, who is watching in muted anticipation. “Are you listening, katze?”

 

The boy nods at Erwin’s question, not turning around. His shoulders are high, bunched around his neck protectively. Levi is right-handed and the knife looks awkward at his side, held by three fingers instead of five.

 

“You keep quiet; I’ll do all the talking. First, you’ll remove his blindfold,” Erwin instructs, and Levi nods again. His boy reaches out with a visibly shaking left hand and snatches at the strip of cloth. Jeremiah throws his head back at that, eyes darting around the room, thrown from his sensory deprivation.

 

Jeremiah shouts around his gag, looking dead at Erwin like a desperate, dying animal. Of course he must know what’s coming. The man’s been sniffing after Erwin for a few weeks now, inquiring of information that is no business of his. Naturally, now is the best time for Erwin to dispose of him and it’s two birds with one stone, really. Levi gets to  _ practice _ and Erwin eliminates a threat. Jeremiah is no stupid man to think he’s leaving here.

 

“Go ahead and take out his gag and ear plugs.”

 

Levi skips the affirmative and simply does as he's told. Jeremiah looks at the boy, at the knife in his hand, and then back at Erwin. “You bastard!” Jeremiah swears. 

 

“Oh, do you know who this is, Jeremiah?” Erwin asks, coming up directly behind Levi, who is still and poised on the surface, but Erwin can feel the shivering down Levi’s spine as he presses his chest against it. With his left hand on Levi’s forehead, Erwin collects the hair up so that Levi’s missing ear is exposed, and then he makes a show of leaning down to mouth at the scar for a moment. 

 

“I can’t believe you,” Jeremiah says in disgust. “You couldn’t leave her son out of all this? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

 

Erwin pulls up and offers a polite smile. “I’ve actually been very good to him. Haven’t I, Levi?” Levi nods once. “I’ve taken him in and given him a home. He needed one, since you sent his mother off to slaughter.”

 

Jeremiah’s mouth falls open, but Erwin cuts him off. “Ah-ah, now. Don’t deny it or you’ll have a very bad time.”

 

“You sleazy piece of shit! You killed her!” Jeremiah shouts anyway.

 

“Alright, then.” Erwin glances at Mike, who takes a pair of pliers from his back pocket and goes over to the restrained man. “Katze, my darling boy, eyes on me.”

 

Levi looks over his shoulder as Erwin takes a few steps back. “Bring me his tongue.”

 

Levi blinks, inhales deeply. By now, Mike has Jeremiah’s head held at an awkward angle with one hand, pliers in the other pinching his tongue and holding it out taut, firm against the struggle. Levi turns, moves to his victim, his actions blocked from Erwin’s view by his back. One healthy, wet scream later, and Levi fulfills Erwin’s command. As he drops the sliced muscle in Erwin’s palm, the boy looks worse for wear, breathing quick and shallow. Erwin pulls him in flush with a clean hand on the back of his neck and kisses the top of his head. Over the mewling from Jeremiah, Erwin murmurs, “Good boy.”

 

“I can’t do this,” Levi whispers again, but Erwin is chasing his declaration away with a steady stream of  _ shhh _ .

 

“Don’t you want to make me proud?” Erwin tips Levi’s chin up with his clean hand. Levi is looking at him with mortification, as if even the thought of disappointing Erwin is too much to bare. “You don’t want to let me down, do you?”

 

Levi frantically shakes his head. Erwin says, “Just focus on my voice. Do what I tell you. You’re such an obedient boy, you know that right? Can you be perfect for me?”

 

“I can,” he mutters, shivering when Erwin ghosts a latex-covered thumb over his silver-pink keloid. 

 

“Are you going to enjoy your gift, now?”

 

Levi raises the knife, damp with droplets of blood, looks at it before looking at Jeremiah. “Yeah,” he agrees with his face still turned away. 

 

“You like it, don’t you?” Erwin nudges the boy’s shoulder, drawing his attention back. “I worked hard to get you the man responsible for all of your pain.”

 

“I like it, thank you,” Levi says plainly and Erwin likes that response, so he steals a chaste kiss.  

 

“You’re welcome. Now, my darling katze, I think Jeremiah has too many fingers, don’t you?”

 

;;;

 

_ Enjoy _ is a word that is, in a strange paradox, too strong while also not strong enough. Levi follows orders without hesitation, and by the time the tarps are dripping and Jeremiah’s screaming is waning, Levi’s throat is bubbling with hysterics. Every time the knife in his hands meets resistance from sinew and bone, he chokes on a sob that becomes a choking laughter, deep in his chest, manic little chirps strung together because his brain can’t process what is going on. He is pushing himself so hard to please Erwin while also hating what he’s doing, but too driven by his need for approval to stop. 

 

When Erwin finally orders the killing blow, orders a smooth line across the man’s abdomen, Levi hesitates for the first time, but ultimately sinks the blade in up to the hilt and draws it along with a pained wailing of his own. As soon as the knife meets open air, it leaves his hands, clattering against the wall and then the floor, Levi dropping to his knees, gasping, choking, laughing in a way that ends up with Levi on his hands and knees in hyperventilation. 

 

“Get up,” Erwin tells him mercilessly. “Look at what you’ve done.”

 

Levi turns his head toward Jeremiah’s body and shudders, turning away just as fast, struggling to speak properly around his out of control breathing. “Erwin, fuck, Erwin, I--! Fuck-- I killed him. Erwin! I fucking killed him!”

 

“I’m proud of you.” Erwin’s kept against the door to stay out of the mess, so he snaps his fingers twice and points to the floor before his feet. Levi crawls over, the hysterics making way for true sobbing as he goes. He looks so pretty wrapped in remorse like this. Momentarily, Erwin hopes he never grows out of this, even though he knows it’s inevitable. Levi will eventually look at these kinds of scenes with the same indifference as Mike, who is in the diagonal corner lighting a cigarette casually. 

 

Levi drops his forehead to Erwin’s shoes, taking fistfulls of his hair in his bloodied hands thoughtlessly. He pulls as a long, loud groan of a cry escapes. “I KILLED HIM!”

 

“You made me proud,” Erwin says again, taking off his gloves. When his hands are bare, he squats and takes Levi’s face in his hands. His boy is absolutely in shambles and that just won’t do. “Doesn’t it feel good to get your revenge? Jeremiah is the reason everything has happened to you. You avenged your mother, Levi, don’t you think she would appreciate that?”

 

Levi opens his mouth but only a pathetic whimper comes out.

 

“You’re such a good boy.” Erwin gives him a small smile. “You are so perfect. I’m so glad you’re mine.”

 

He smacks his mouth closed, swallowing, then gasps for breath, working hard to stave off hyperventilating again. He’s going pale, and Erwin fully expects him to pass out from this. It’s a lot to process. The first kill is always the hardest.

 

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Erwin shifts to kneel and then lifts Levi by his underarms to draw the boy into his lap. “I’ve got you, darling,  _ shhh _ .”

 

“Erwin,” he chokes out, grabbing at the man’s shirt with his gloves still on. Erwin will have to burn all of this clothing, too, with how messy Levi is making both of them. 

 

“You’ve made me so proud,  _ so _ proud.” Erwin pats the back if Levi’s head, pushing it down against his chest so he can hear his heartbeat. He chances a glance up at his comrade, and Mike is watching, reserved behind his cloud of smoke. Erwin will get his opinion later, he knows. For now, though, his boy needs him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday baby


	5. Sheathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has given this a try! Thank you for all the subs, bookmarks, kudos, hits, and comments! And thank you lurkers for sticking with this!

Erwin takes Levi’s wrists and slip his fingers inside the latex gloves to draw them from his hands after prying off the grip on the man’s shirt. Instead of clutching fabric now, Levi pulls at the roots of his hairs until he feels them _pop_ out of his scalp and slip through his fingers, and even collected up in Erwin’s arms, he feels like he is suffocating, like everything is too tight and too much and that the void of nothingness will settle over him soon just like he brought the void to settle over Jeremiah--

 

“ _Shh_ , unclench your jaw, you’ll crack a molar.” A finger taps Levi’s cheek hollow. “Don’t whine so much, you did perfect for me.”

 

Above him, somewhere, Erwin is talking with low words, praising him, but Levi can only bring himself to shake his head. Someone is dead because of him, a life is over, Jeremiah will never have another moment on this earth, his consciousness is ended forever and he is dead with his intestines spilling over his lap and into the floor and no one here to mourn him, how is no one upset by this, how is Mike standing over there smoking at a time like this, a man is _dead_ \--

 

“Katze, you’re so good,” Erwin coos, wrapping him up tight. Levi is straddling Erwin’s knelt knees, and he feels totally swallowed by the embrace, by the sound of a steady, sturdy, _alive_ heartbeat beneath his ear. “You’re such a good and obedient boy for me.” He swats Levi’s hands away to keep him from tearing himself up any further, and then Erwin cards his fingers along Levi’s scalp to soothe the abuse. “Oh, so perfect. _Shhh_ , my darling boy, I’ve got you. You did exactly what I told you to do, _shhh_ ….”

 

For a few minutes, he suffocates on the weight and the guilt of it, until Erwin’s words wheedle deep down into his ears like mites. This is what Erwin wanted him to do, and he was obedient. Levi didn’t choose to do this to Jeremiah, he didn’t decide to take a man’s life, Erwin did, and all Levi did was fulfill that desire. Does that make him a bad person? He was only doing as he was told.

 

“Erwin,” he groans, feeling suddenly exhausted. His body must weigh ten thousand pounds now, so he lets it go, lets it drop. Erwin catches him as he slumps, holds him upright, always taking care of Levi just like he has done every day since he plucked Levi up and gave him somewhere to belong. A purpose has been given to him now, he feels, but he’s too tired to think on it too long. All he wants is Erwin filling and overpowering his senses.

 

“I’ve got you, darling, _shhh_.”

 

Levi lets himself hang limp, concentrating on loosening every muscle within his power to do so. Being enveloped in the man’s chest like this, everything feels firm. Erwin’s words and praises coat his confusion, taking it away and replacing it with their certainty. All Levi did was follow orders. Where does morality stand with that? Doing as one is told-- if there is any guilt to go around, is it for all parties or just the commanding party? Erwin says Levi is _good and perfect_ , what he did to Jeremiah was good and perfect, so should Levi feel that he’s at fault?

 

The man had it coming anyway, didn’t he? Erwin says that a who is person pro-government stands by every crime committed against less fortunate citizens and supports it all whole heartedly. And Jeremiah _worked for_ the government, so that must make him one of the people responsible for some of the atrocities, right? Maybe Erwin will read the file to Levi, just to quiet the last ungrateful doubts in his mind about his actions. Levi really shouldn’t feel any doubt at all, but he does, so he buries it because the ugliness of that only means he doesn’t appreciate anything from Erwin, and truthfully he is so very glad for Erwin-- Erwin, who never lies to him, and who gives him everything he needs.

 

His spinning thoughts seem to anchor at _Erwin told me to do it and I was obedient,_ which brings him to a place of timid acceptance. Like the tail end of a hurricane, the calm comes between final stirrings of questions, doubts, and panic, but it smooths out evenly, _everything_ smoothes out until he is limp in both mind and body. Whimpers replace the wails. Levi doesn't cling when Erwin peels their sticky bodies apart. They stand separate, close enough for hand-holding if Levi sought it out and Erwin obliged, and then Erwin leads him back over to the body, still warm and dribbling out blood like a stuck pig.

 

“Tell me what you see, katze.”

 

“A dead man.”

 

“Just a dead man?” Erwin taps his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I see a dead man whose karma caught up with him, whose evil doing brought him to this point. I see a dead man who deserved what he got. Don’t you see it, too?” And Levi nods because that’s all there really is to do; Erwin doesn’t lie to him.

 

There's little more discussion about it. Mike lights cigarette after cigarette while they work, folding and rolling up tarps in a way that reminds Levi of making perogies with his mother. It's a perfected system for the two towering blondes, and they instruct Levi on the proper procedure with ease. He follows along, slightly more eager than hesitant in his mixed emotions, reciting to himself often that he is an obedient boy, and that gets him through it. Everything gets tossed in the bed of Erwin’s truck like nothing important, like they were maybe replacing carpet instead of murdering someone.

 

It's not until they're out at Mike’s father’s junkyard setting the evidence ablaze that Levi really _feels_ the weight of it. Until now, he's been gliding through it, coasting along, doing as he is told and taking solace. But the smell gets him first, that distinct smell of meat burning, a body-- a human-- burning up all crispy turns his stomach and has him gripping the rear wheel of Erwin’s truck with white knuckles while he retches. His sins cascade onto him again, crashing, ten times heavier than before, twisting up his gut in tight anxiety that, mixed with sick, leaves him pathetically breathless between waves.

 

The lack of expected comfort burns his conscience, and when he finally wipes his hand across the back of his mouth and chances a glance at Erwin, he wishes he could disappear. It’s nothing but disappointment, unyielding and unforgiving, on the man’s face in a way that makes Levi want to toss himself on the fire.

 

Mike and Erwin are standing side by side, the umpteenth cigarette pressed between the taller man’s lips, two sets of arms crossed over chests. Cool, collected, and unaffected. When Levi slinks in tight to Erwin’s side, the man loops his arm around Levi’s shoulders to give a brief squeeze before taking back all contact, asking, “Are you afraid of fire?”

 

Levi shakes his head. Mike tosses a butt into the fire and reaches into his pants pocket to pull out the little box, lighting another just like he’s done since Jeremiah’s intestines splashed across the tarp at his feet with a wet _plop_. That small sounds pushes back into the foreground of Levi’s mind, on loop, and he doesn’t realise how shallow and quick his breathing has gotten until Erwin lays a large hand on his nape and those thick fingers flirt with his pressure points.

 

Levi pushes out a rugged sigh, trying to keep his facade up to Erwin’s standard, but the smell wafting out from the fire keeps tugging on that fragile set. They don’t stay long after the flames engulf and blaze hot enough that nothing but indecipherable embers remain.

 

It’s hardly even midmorning when Erwin ushers Levi into their shared domicile.

 

“Strip, put it all in the sink,” Erwin says, lacking any kind of interest, and Levi takes no time at all until he’s standing in the kitchenette bare as the day he was born. His nudity before Erwin is far from concerning at this point-- the man has bathed him several times now, every part of him. And, fuck, does a wash sound good right now. Levi smells like blood, sweat, cigarettes, and charred flesh, and the sooner he smells like soap, the better.

 

Beside Levi, Erwin has done the same though he left on his boxers, dumping his clothes in with Levi’s, going as far as the stuff in both pairs of shoes as well. He stops up the sink, runs in some water, and after rummaging under the cabinets for a moment, he resurfaces with a bulk-sized bottle of hydrogen peroxide and unscrews the cap to pour in the whole thing.

 

“I’ll let it soak for just a few minutes, then I’ll rinse with cold water,” Erwin tells him as he stirs the clothing. Levi can see the water turning rusty and looks away. “No obvious stains-- a perk of dark clothing. Don't leave it in long, though, or it'll fade the colour.”

 

Levi can only nod at that, keeping his eyes off the sight and on his toes. Without a word, he excuses himself to the matchbox bathroom. It’s a sink, a toilet, and a stand-in shower taking up three-quarters of the room, the remaining space allotted for the swing of the door, which he doesn’t bother to lock when he closes it. The water pressure is lacking but the temperature is as hot as Levi wants it and he sits in the bottom of the stall with his head leaned back against the tiles, his knees stuffed up in his chest, unable to spread out in the small square of the shower. He doesn’t even bother to draw the curtain to save the bathmat from the spray that reflects off of him and onto the floor. It doesn’t matter.

 

Erwin joins him not long after that with a scolding click of his tongue but little else. He takes a wash rag from the folded pile in the medicine cabinet and reaches over Levi to wet it in the scalding water, and then wipes at his skin, checking his progress in the mirror over the sink.

 

“What are you sulking about?” Erwin asks when he’s finished and Levi is still taking up residence on the bottom of the shower stall. “You look haggard.”

 

Levi shrugs even though he knows exactly what’s got him locked up like this. He killed a man this morning, he took someone’s life away from them, and no matter how much praise Erwin gives him, he doesn’t think it will ever feel right.

 

“He deserved it, katze.” Erwin steps into the shower, still in his boxers, hovering over Levi and blocking the water, making Levi shiver without its heat. His chain is getting hot and his skin is turning a dangerous shade of red. It’s probably for the better that this self-imposed punishment is interrupted.

 

“Did he?” There’s that ugly doubt burrowing right through his brain despite his best efforts to bury it.

 

“Have you forgotten what I told you?” Erwin snaps, tone reminding Levi quickly of the disappointed look at the fire.

 

“Did he really need to pay with his life?” Levi looks up at Erwin, blinking when stray droplets catch close to his eyes. “Is what he did so terrible that he needed to die?”

 

“You want to know everything.” Erwin cuts to the chase. “You want to know exactly how much he deserved what he got.”

 

Levi shrugs again, but yes, that is exactly it. He wants to bask in all the gory details so that his conscience can convince him that he did the world a service by exterminating that piece of filth. Levi needs to feel hot anger rising in his chest when Erwin exposes the details that he’s kept hidden until now. Levi needs to feel _righteous_ in his anger, in his actions, in the memory of a knife hilt-deep in a gut with an easy slash.

 

Erwin gives him what he needs because Erwin always does, _always_ takes care of him. They leave damp stains in the comforter tossed over the back of the couch in the few minutes of the file that Levi can stand. Erwin passes him the manila folder wordlessly, and Levi reads it for himself, getting barely a fraction in before he slaps it shut and hands it back. Jeremiah had been arrested and charged with vehicular manslaughter while under the influence, his victims being two small children, and the bastard _walked_ . That’s more than justification as far as Levi is concerned, and he’s sorry he _ever_ second-guessed Erwin. After that, his doubt withers and dies; his trust in Erwin becomes so fixed and absolute that he can't remember what his life meant before the man came along, and soon he stops trying to.

 

;;;

 

Erwin starts taking him out on little odd jobs and Levi learns more of what’s expected of him as his training is fine tuned. They hunt out in the countryside almost every night, Erwin like a gunman and Levi the hound set loose on a scent and sent to fetch. Erwin receives a time and location from Mike, and the pair always arrives to some poor bastard sensory deprived and kneeling with wrists bound behind their backs. Erwin restores their prey’s senses and taunts them for their sins, promising them an amicable escape should they outrun Levi with a generous headstart, and then it’s off to the races. Weight training aside, all that running with long-legged Mike over the weeks is improving Levi’s speed. He is a deadly weapon tucked into Erwin’s side when they go out, poised to obey any command proceeding three snaps of his man’s fingers.

 

Chill thrilling replaces reluctance kill after kill until, when Erwin unleashes him, when Levi can finally push his body to its limits, going faster and further every time in the pursuit of his prey, learning by trial and error the correct ribs to plunge his knife between for an easy takedown, he feels pride in fulfilling his purpose. No matter how far Levi chases, Erwin strolls out with a shovel on his shoulder to appraise the job, rewarding his boy with a well deserved kiss on the lips before they dig a shallow grave and set fire to the remains.

 

To commemorate Levi’s first dozen kills, Erwin buys him a proper leather collar and a set of identification and vaccination tags, the topmost a gaudy pink heart with _Katze_ engraved in block lettering that makes Levi’s breath catch in his throat.

 

“Thank you, Erwin,” he whispers, leaning up to smooch at the underside of his man’s chin. He’s allowed to keep the transport chain and padlock, and not knowing where else to keep them, puts the set on his small bed tucked under the couch. Most nights, he goes to sleep grasping the chain, stroking his thumbs over the familiar links, meanwhile Erwin slips his arm down the side of the couch and cards a hand through Levi’s hair.

 

The death throes of summer comes in the middle of September, and with it, the apartment building grows quiet and boring from time to time, its occupants reduced to the equivalent of lizards sunbathing on boulders. Levi has been getting left alone in the apartment, each stretch longer than the last, until Erwin stays out all night after giving Levi a list of tasks to complete by morning. He wastes no time with his chores, luckily, because Nanaba drags him down the hall for dinner and a movie like a child being babysat, and it's well-after midnight when Levi gets back to Erwin’s. Even with the couch empty for the night, Levi curls up on his dog cushion, his last coherent thought that he wishes Erwin were there to stroke his hair absentmindedly the way he's used to.

 

Levi is looking out of the window with his arms folded on the back of the couch when he hears the key twisting in the lock, the metallic thunking disrupting the predawn calm but the closing door reinstating it. A moment later, Erwin comes and takes him by the hips, pulling Levi’s body in with his on the couch until his back is settled against the man’s chest and their entwined legs are stretched before them. Levi tips his mouth up to nibble at Erwin’s ear in greeting, pushing his feet down into the cushions so that he can reach, careful to keep his bite playful. The hold on his hips eventually slackens enough for him to wiggle and twist around, to bring their chests together, letting him lavish on kisses now that angle isn’t an issue. Erwin’s got his head tipped over the arm of the couch, eyes closed, enjoying the affection with a smile.

 

“Erwiiiiin,” Levi whisper-moans, straddling the man’s waist. The stippled scar along his jugular from when a feral and ungrateful Levi bit him is faded, and Levi mouths at the skin, enthusiasm just shy of bringing up a bruise. Now that they're back in the city, Erwin wears long-sleeved button-ups most of the time, but those shirt collars would be too low to hide a hickey. It was only one night alone, but Levi missed him, missed his touch, and wants to make up for it.

 

“Katze,” Erwin replies, one of his large hands cupping the back of Levi’s head. “I need your focus for a moment.”

 

“Yes?” Levi sits back on his haunches but leaves his palms on the man’s chest, flat.

 

“We have to go out tonight.”

 

“For what?”

 

“So impatient,” Erwin chides. “You’ll need your knife.”

 

The thought of killing someone doesn’t bother him anymore. His tally has risen thanks to hunting the filth of society, and if he ever thinks about Jeremiah, he almost laughs at the silly, dramatic way he reacted.

 

“Alright,” Levi agrees, and when Erwin adds nothing else, he dives back for the man’s neck with fervor, undoing the buttons of the white shirt so that he can leave marks safe from prying eyes. Erwin guides him with that hand on the back of his head, letting out soft sighs when Levi nips particularly deep. His man is a masochist, he’s learned, and Levi indulges him in his pleasures as often as possible.

 

“I should have Mike rip those canines out of your skull,” Erwin growls in idle threat when Levi manages to break the skin above his navel.

 

“I dare you,” Levi purrs, coming back up to taint Erwin’s mouth, trading the taste of blood and taking whatever he wants like a siphon. What he thinks he _needs_ is to be fucked, but that has not happened, much to his disappointment. Their intimacy consists of kisses and touches, it’s lacking cum from either of them-- any kind of fucking is so far out of the question that Levi’s never verbalised his burning desire once. If Erwin hasn’t given it to him, then he must not _really_ need it. “I dare you to have him do it.”

 

“You’d like that, huh.” Erwin squeezes his scruff so tight that Levi draws his shoulders up and whimpers through a clenched jaw, a tug of Erwin’s skin caught between his teeth. “I’d watch it, too. Oh, I’d love to see the blood running down your face and over your body. It’ll bleed a lot, too. Absolutely cover you.”

 

Levi can feel his arousal stirring and all he can do is whine. Erwin continues, his unoccupied hand slipping over Levi’s collar in a splayed claim on his throat, “You’d be naked and I’d smear it all over you, paint you in your own blood, darling. Yes?”

 

Levi nods, forcing his throat against Erwin’s grasp, and he relishes how easily breathless he’s becoming. A single snap of Erwin’s fingers as they leave his neck lets him know that now is not the time for indulging this, and Levi reluctantly pulls away.

 

“I’ve got a present for you.” The blonde lifts his hips so that he can reach behind him, pulling out a handgun that Levi instantly recognises as his own. “I’ve seen you eyeballing Mike’s holster when we all go out and I thought you might want to see something familiar.”

 

Levi turns his gun over in his hands, the muscle memory pushing up from a long, unused slumber. It feels the same as it always has, the comforting security of having a loaded weapon, though he has nothing to fear anymore. Before all of this, he’d been nagged by the anxiety of the Organisation coming back to finish what they started, but he’s one of them now, so having this is pointless in that context. In fact, with the tiring pace of his days here, his anxiety has somehow diminished, or maybe it's Erwin’s comforting consistency that's done the trick? The anxiety still flares up from time to time, triggered by shifts in his schedule, but it's easier to push through now that his life has purpose. Levi hands the gun back to Erwin for safekeeping with a peck on the chin. “Thank you, Erwin. You’re so good to me.”

 

Erwin hums, sets the weapon on the back of the couch and pulls Levi in, chest to chest, his arms tight, and his hands clasped between Levi’s shoulders. “You should take it tonight, if you’re comfortable. I’m sending you on your first solo job. There’s a concert tonight at the ampitheatre in the park next to that suburb of new developments, the one on the north side of the city.”

 

Levi tucks his nose down into the man’s hard pectorals, muffling his question, “You’ve already come up with the plan, right?”

 

“Your target is Ric--”

 

“Don’t tell me the name.” Levi raises his head sharply. He’s never learned the identities of his prey, trusting instead in Erwin’s judgement of their actions as worthy of death. “It’s one thing to kill a person whose name I’ve never known after I run them down. Don’t tell me the name, tell me what they did to _deserve_ this.”

 

Erwin studies his serious expression for a breath and then nods. Levi tucks his head into the curve of Erwin’s neck while the man continues, “Your target is a pro-government activist, and she is gaining attention. Her followers are the ones who crashed that peace rally last week, the one we talked about.” Erwin goes on to list the woman’s misdeeds, and while none of them drive Levi’s blood to boil, he still feels that she is a threat that needs to be dealt with before it gets out of hand.

 

“What’s your plan, Erwin?”

 

“The neighbourhood is under light surveillance because of its exclusivity, and tonight’s concert will serve as your cover. It’s all local indie artists, so this won’t be the kind of crowd you can disappear in.” Erwin begins to card his fingers through Levi’s hair, a sleepy habit and the sleepiness a contagion. “You’ll break into the target’s house. Kill her, and then make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Get to the park to wait for me to pick you up. In and out, easy. I did some reconnaissance last night, so I’ve got a couple maps and routes to show you later. But right now, let’s rest.”

 

Levi isn’t nervous when Erwin drops him off near the concert after sunset. For a first job, it’s an easy one thanks to the man’s strategy. The security system codes to his target’s residence were unaccessible, and that’s the only wild card in this, but Levi knows he can get in and out in less than two minutes, and police take an average of eight to arrive. Plus, Erwin has procured a key to the house’s back door in a disgruntled set of six degrees, meaning the alarm might not be triggered anyway. Levi should be in the park, blending in with the crowd, listening to smooth crooning when his handiwork is even discovered.

 

Tucking his collar safely from view in the high-necked hoodie, Levi waits for a few minutes, dawdles at the back of the crowd near a food vendor for a while, and then slips out of the park. Erwin had him memorise the layout of the neighbourhood, and Levi moves quickly to the lavish cookie-cutter home as if he belongs here. Stealthy as a stray cat, he slinks into the garden and through the back door, unlocking it slowly to minimise noise, moving slow, stilling to listen intently for his prey in the house. He can hear the low rumble of the television around the corner, and readies himself to pounce.

 

The whole ordeal lasts less than a minute. He jumps at the woman head on, catching her between the third and fourth ribs, close to the center of her chest, and when he pulls his knife out, a spurt of blood chases its sudden absence. She stares at him in disbelief, then down at herself, where her blouse is blooming with red at an alarming rate. He overturns everything he can without leaving fingerprints, snatching her keys and wallet from the kitchen counter on his way out of the backdoor in a mad dash, leaving the woman sputtering on her couch. She’ll be dead in a moment, Levi knows from experience, and doesn’t turn back.

 

Dressed in all black like this, he merges with the night and if blood that got on him it doesn’t show. His ankles are protesting his pace by the time he gets back to the park, blending himself into the crowd, trying not to look anxious as he waits for Erwin to reappear. There’s people everywhere and even if none of them are looking his way, this many bodies in one place still has the finer hairs of his body standing on end--

 

“Levi?”

 

He ignores it the first time, but when a hand grabs his shoulder and a known face comes into view, his stomach drops.

 

“Whoa, hey!” Lieutenant Church says, shocked. He looks the same as ever, which is unnerving to Levi, seeing yet another object of his former life unchanged while he himself is reborn. “You do know you’ve been reported missing?”

 

Levi tries to brush it off. “Oh?”

 

“Levi?” Church raises an eyebrow. “The newspaper released the statement from your doctor and everything. Said you’d probably killed yourself. How would you _not_ know?”

 

Levi clenches his jaw not at the patronising, suspicious tone, but at the fact that Erwin lied to him about the newspaper. “I just didn’t,” he grinds out, pushing his feelings aside, planning to deal with it when he's with Erwin again.

 

“Here, I’ll give you a ride to the station and we’ll have it dismissed. Where are you staying? I can even take you home.”

 

Levi steps back, out of reach, trying to look for Erwin discreetly. “I’ll do it tomorrow, now that I know.”

 

“I can’t locate a missing persons and let them walk off.” Church leans his mouth into the radio on his shoulder and says something in code. “It won't take long, we’ll go to the department up the road. Finally built a station way up here now that the suburbs are stretching out.”

 

Levi has ridden in the back of Lieutenant Church’s patrol car plenty of times, but this is the most nervous he has ever been. The knife feels hot and wet in his pocket even though he knows it is dry, and his victim’s wallet and keys feel like they weigh ten thousand pounds, ready to rip through his jeans and expose his actions.

 

For a fleeting moment, he thinks about crying out for help. It would be so easy. Church knows him, he’d believe Levi if he said he’s been in custody of the Organisation, wouldn’t he? But… then what? What happens to all the members, to Mike and Nanaba and all the work they’ve accomplished in the memory of their son? More importantly, what happens to Erwin, the only person in the world who has given a shit about him in the last ten years, the only person to take care of him and give him what he needs? Could he really rat them out like that and burn the bridges he’s built with them? Over what, anyway? Erwin hadn’t been able to predict Church would be at the park, it’s not his fault that Levi finds himself in the police station dismissing his missing person's report. After all, Erwin forewarned him that the crowd wouldn’t be large enough to get lost in. Levi should have taken more care not to stand out, and Church would have never recognised him, making Levi’s predicament no one’s fault but his own. Mentally, he curses himself for ending up here, but at least Church was right when he said it’d be quick.

 

“Can I go?” He demands, shoving the clipboard back under the glass to the cop on duty.

 

“Hold on, you didn’t have ID on you, so I’ve got to look up your photo in the state issued directory. Take a seat.” The burly officer behind the glass points to the row of plastic chairs along the window. “Just a minute.”

 

Lieutenant Church was taken away on a call as soon as they arrived, report of a burglary-homicide, and rushed off immediately. Levi’s glad that he doesn’t have to entertain the man’s suspicious glances and pregnant questions anymore, and in a morbid flash, wonders if he’ll ever see Church alive again.

 

The burly officer behind the glass eventually waves Levi away and he leaves gladly, setting off on foot in the same direction he’d arrived from, walking only to the corner after next before he sees movement ahead, across the street. Someone is in the shadows between streetlights, and it’s only when Levi gets closer that he sees it’s Erwin leaning against his truck, looking wholly displeased.

 

“I don't know what happened,” Levi starts as he approaches, intending to give his man the play-by-play of how he ended up here, but then he realises that if Erwin knows _where_ he is, Erwin knows _why_. “I guess I fucked up, I didn’t blend in, and he saw me,” he finishes lamely anyway, crossing his arms and folding his shoulders inward.

 

Erwin looks down his nose at Levi, who’s stopped before him. He draws a long breath through his nose and pins Levi with a look of dissatisfaction. “Is she dead?”

 

Levi nods, nervous with the anticipation of what Erwin thinks of the unplanned turn of events. Like a peace offering, Levi digs the wallet and keys from his pocket, holding them out for Erwin to take. The blonde looks long and hard and disappointedly at Levi before taking the proffered items, leaning in to peck his boy’s forehead.

 

“That’s for doing your job,” Erwin clarifies, turning away from Levi. “Now get your ass in the truck.”

 

;;;

 

Levi clambers in beside Erwin, filling the seat in the middle of the bench the way he’s taken a habit to doing, but Erwin slides his boy back over to the window with a large hand on his sharp hip.

 

“Do you know the complications that are going to arise now?” Erwin snaps, twisting the key too hard in the ignition, his visible anger just the boil over on the pot. “You were supposed to stay missing until you were declared dead. And now that’s not going to happen. Now, instead,” he sneers, knuckles going white around the steering wheel, “everyone will know in the morning that you’re alive. You’re going to get a lot of attention. The government is going to be pawing after you, too.”

 

“Erwin--”

 

“Be quiet, you stupid _child_ ,” he spits, nailing Levi with a murderous look in his eye. “Do you understand the lengths I will have to go to now to cover for you?”

 

If there are any protests in Levi, they die when Erwin admonishes him, leaving the noirette hunched over with his arms folded across his chest. Without another glance, Erwin starts to drive, the whole way home willing himself to curb his emotions, knowing he’ll hurt Levi otherwise. He already knows that Levi doesn’t fair well under physical discipline and negative reinforcement. His boy would probably take a beating without so much as a consideration to adjusting his actions. No, his boy is extremely sensitive to affection and positive reinforcement instead, lapping it up eagerly when Erwin gives it and dying of thirst when it's withheld.

 

Problem is, this reprimand will be just as hard for Erwin to accomplish. Having Levi at the mercy of his touch, having his boy looking at him with adoring eyes begging to be fucked, it inflates a specific, long-dormant root in his ego. And is it really the best thing to do, given what’s about to come?

 

Levi hops from the truck as soon as they’re parked, staying two steps ahead of Erwin the whole way up to the apartment. Fortunately for Levi, the tavern is lively tonight, because Erwin would like nothing more than to lock him in one of the empty storage rooms in the basement until he cries Erwin’s name in desperation. He locks the apartment door behind them as Levi makes a predictable beeline for the bathroom, the sound of the shower rattling to life coming through the crack of the door to vent the bathroom. To keep the rest of the apartment from steaming up, too, Erwin opens the window above the couch, and then he sits, untying his boots and kicking them off. He leaves them turned over where they fall.

 

Levi is going to be in high demand, sought after heavily in the next few days, something that gives Erwin a great bout of uncertainty. He’s confident in how he can manipulate the boy, but he’s afraid that Levi’s rebirth is still too newborn for this kind of strain. Yes, he follows Erwin’s orders now without hesitation, he kills without any thoughts except to please Erwin, but something nags at the back of his mind. Will Levi’s resolve withstand the intense scrutiny of the media all over again, without a little _incentive_ to stay sheathed at Erwin’s side?

 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to fuck his boy. If it weren’t for his self-control, it would have happened at the mountain estate, Levi waterlogged from a night on the front porch and his mind in shambles. He’s been holding out simply to have something powerful over Levi’s head, and the weight of claiming Levi’s body as a trophy to put on the shelf beside his mind and spirit will tip the scales in Erwin’s favour in the upcoming attentions. There’s really no way around what he’s going to have to do now. It’s as good a time as it will ever be for fucking Levi to be so beneficial.

 

He leans his head over the back of the couch, breathing deep the crisp night’s air, tinged with an impending frost. He should really be ignoring Levi for the next few days, he should be forcing Levi into a state of self-doubt and repentance, but this is all a clusterfuck. His usual punishment has the opportunity to go awry and push Levi away, have him seeking the insincere concern of others for affection and a feeling of belonging.

 

Now, more than ever, Erwin needs Levi to feel completely dependent on him. He needs his boy to be blind to any other means of having his needs met, to continue looking to Erwin the way he has been up until now. It’s been a breeze, following the steps laid out by Abraham Maslow. Erwin started by providing Levi with the physiological: food, water, medications, a place to sleep. Safety came next, eventually tested and proved true by the trial of hyperserotonemia, and entwined with Erwin’s multiplying affection, it all melded to establish a sense of love. As they’ve been hunting, Erwin has been manipulating Levi’s esteem, forcing him to believe that he is what Erwin thinks of him. Levi is a good boy when he kills in perfect obedience, Levi should feel good when he makes Erwin proud, and because Erwin is the only one who cares for him, then Erwin’s opinion is all that matters. Levi has only just started to tap into the top level of the hierarchy, but not enough for Erwin to confidently study.

 

He is thinking that sex might be enough to completely seal Levi’s dedication to him, to keep the boy unwavering and tucked into his side, when Levi opens the door to the bathroom. Steam billows out with him, and he’s naked but dried off. He watches his boy walk over to the wardrobe and open it, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, both Erwin’s.

 

“Wait, Levi,” Erwin said, sitting forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands steepled.

 

“Okay, Erwin,” the noirette replies, clutching the stack of clothes to his chest, closing the wardrobe. He’s totally naked, his collar still gripped in his hand from when he took it off to wash, no doubt. He doesn’t ask for a reason, just waits with his eyes downcast as Erwin stands up and comes over to him. Erwin walks a half-circle around him, tapping his chin, the other hand on his hip, humming thoughtfully to himself. The whole of Levi’s flesh is on display and he doesn’t shrink away from the appraisal.

 

“Do you know how gorgeous you look when you’re lobster-red from the shower?” Erwin finally asks, keeping a stranger’s distance between their bodies where he stands behind him.

 

Levi’s head turns to look over his shoulder, eyes still down. “No.”

 

“Oh, very gorgeous, my boy,” Erwin declares, walking one last time around Levi until they’re face to face. “Would you be this gorgeous if I took a whip to you, I wonder.”

 

Levi’s eyes flick up for a heartbeat, long enough for him to swallow, before he looks down again. He deadpans, “Do you.”

 

“I do,” Erwin says, reaching out to stroke his index finger over the silver-pink keloid that he loves so much. “You know I don’t lie to you.”

 

“ _Do_ you,” Levi says again, but this time he meets Erwin’s gaze with a challenge in his eye. “ _Never_?”

 

Erwin drops his hand and goes passive, playing open ear. Levi has a habit of spilling every thought in his head when Erwin stares silently, rambling on to incite any kind of response so he doesn’t feel ignored. The staring contest only lasts a minute before his boy is looking down again, giving in.

 

“Lieutenant Church,” Levi starts, swallowing again, his adam’s apple bobbing. Whatever he needs to say is difficult for him, but he finally says shyly, “The newspaper wasn’t a dream.”

 

Years of practice allows Erwin to keep a blank expression though his brain is lit on fire. The fucking newspaper, the incident that Erwin used to start gaslighting and cornering Levi into doubting his own perception of reality. When Erwin doesn’t respond, Levi pushes forward, “You lied to me about it. It happened, I read what Doctor Zoe wrote, but you told me I was dreaming, and I believed you, Erwin. You _made_ me believe you.”

 

“Get dressed, collar too,” he says suddenly, turning away to regroup. He can hear the rustling of cotton coming onto skin. “Then put my boots by the door and wait there.”

 

Levi does just that. Erwin relishes the obedience because even though small, it’s there. The only way Erwin knows how to deal with Levi’s doubts is to meet it head on, and he isn’t prepared for this. He has no well-thought out arguments to twist this and make it something Levi should apologise to him for. All Erwin is sure of is that he needs to close the window so that the noise from whatever comes next doesn’t escape. He uses too much force and it slams, a tree branch of cracks in the glass growing, though thankfully it doesn’t shatter and fall out.

 

Levi is watching Erwin when he comes over to lean against the kitchen counter without saying anything. He’s counting on more of Levi’s nervous rambling, and it comes a few minutes later.

 

“You made me question myself so that I would rely on you for the truth.” Levi has his back flat against the door. “Didn’t you.”

 

It’s a gamble to be direct while playing the edge of truth, but if Erwin knows anything, he knows that Levi doesn’t like being dumbed down. Erwin takes the chance. “Yes.”

 

There’s a momentary sag in the boy’s shoulders. “Why?”

 

“To protect you.”

 

“From?”

 

“Yourself.”

 

Levi falters, looking to Erwin for meaning even though this is _exactly_ what Levi is talking about. “I don’t get it.”

 

“I told you,” Erwin starts, pushing off the counter to come to him, “what I had to, to keep you from trying to kill yourself.”

 

Levi’s hands ball into fists but he stays by the door like Erwin instructed. “You--”

 

“I told you only what you needed to know, katze, to keep you sane.”

 

“Why did you show me the paper at all, then?”

 

“To do just what you said,” Erwin informs him. “To make you doubt yourself and believe me instead.”

 

Levi seems stunned by the admission. He uncrosses and recrosses his arms, mouth gaping every time he wants to speak but doesn’t. Finally he pushes off from the door when beaconed, stalking over the Erwin, who looks calm and collected on the surface. Under his skin, though, Erwin’s blood is coming to life, filled with a lust for violence. It’s been so long since Levi engaged him like this that all he can think about is drawing blood, and as soon as Levi is within reach, he backhands him. It doesn’t drop Levi, but he staggers, reflexively holding his cheek in the ringing sting, looking to Erwin in disbelief for the uncharacteristic gesture.  

 

“Don’t I give you everything you need, my darling boy?” Erwin steps forward, Levi flinches, but he allows Erwin to tug them together in an embrace. “That is just one more thing you need. You need me to protect you from the world, from yourself. I’m only doing what’s best for you.”

 

“Erwin,” Levi murmurs, trying to pull back, but he grabs the boy by the back of his neck and squeezes in gentle warning.

 

“Remember how unhappy you were before I saved you?” Erwin presses a kiss into Levi’s damp hair and then collects it all into his hand to get a good, long look at the asymmetry of Levi’s face. “You were miserable until I came to take care of you. Don’t you like what I do for you?”

 

For a moment, Levi melts into him, the beginnings of a nod in his movements, and then he shakes his head, pushing hard enough against Erwin’s chest to break the embrace. He lets him go. “No, _no_ , I don’t. You’ve been lying to me.”

 

“I’m protecting you,” Erwin insists.

 

“You’re lying,” Levi says weakly, like he’s torn between standing for his opinion or taking on Erwin’s the way he’s used to.

 

Erwin shrugs, the bloodlust in his veins cooling, temporarily sated by the bruise blooming up on Levi’s cheekbone. It’ll be a pretty shade of green in a few days. He turns to the counter, fills the kettle with water and sets it back in its cradle to heat up. Behind him, he can hear Levi moving through the apartment, a wall locker opening and then closing, and when Erwin checks on him, Levi is fiddling with the gun case.

 

A sigh leaves his lips as Erwin opens the cupboard to take down a pair of mugs and a box of sleepytime tea. Levi truly is going to make this more troublesome than it needs to be, but the further the fall, the deeper the grave, and Erwin intends to completely bury him by morning. He’ll indulge Levi in this fight, and then he’ll fuck him like his body has been begging for, and _then_ he will own all the pieces of Levi: mind, spirit, and body.

 

The darkest recesses of his mind imagine holding Levi’s head to his chest and blowing the boy’s brains out in the post-coital high, but discarding Levi completely like that would be such a waste. He’s put too much effort into his boy to cast him aside for one fixable imperfection.

 

Erwin pours the tea and then calmly turns around, already knowing that Levi will have a gun pointed in his face. He's not surprised to be met with a barrel. “Don’t be so dramatic, katze, and have something to drink,” Erwin scolds as he steps around Levi to set the mugs on the table.

 

Levi lowers the gun and his gaze, studying the weapon in his hand as if it’s shape shifting right before his eyes. Erwin snaps his fingers twice and Levi comes to sit on the bench. The gun is still set to _safety_ when it’s laid on the table, facing away from both of them.

 

“Are you going to kill me?” Erwin asks, completely unafraid. He’d be laying on the floor in his own blood and vomit if that were the case. Levi would have shot him when his back were turned, but he didn’t, and he never will. Still, Erwin can pick him apart and put him back together over this.

 

Levi leans his nose over the rim of the mug and sniffs.

 

“Answer me, boy.”

 

“I don’t know.” Levi bunches his shoulders together and turns his face away.

 

“Why would you do it?” Erwin rest his elbows on the table and brings his tea to his lips for a small, scalding sip. “How would you benefit?”

 

“You couldn’t lie to me anymore,” Levi murmurs, still facing away.

 

“No, I couldn’t _protect_ you anymore,” Erwin corrects. “Do you think you’d be able to go back to your life before me, misery and all?”

 

Levi looks into his tea and then at the gun. “I can try.”

 

“You’ll never forget me, though.”

 

“I can _fucking try_.”

 

“But you won’t. You’ll miss my hands and my mouth.” Erwin puts his cup down. “And you’ll end up so consumed with guilt that you betrayed me. You’ll be miserable, lonely, and you’ll go insane over it. Why would you want that?”

 

“I don’t,” Levi sneers.

 

“Attitude,” Erwin murmurs sternly and Levi whispers an apology by reflex. “What do you want?”

 

Levi steals a glance as he folds his arms on the tabletop before hunching over and nestling his chin in. “I don’t know.”

 

“Do you really want to get away from me?” Erwin reaches out to pet the top of Levi’s head. “Or is this a cry for attention?” His hand drops down to nudge Levi’s nose with his thumb. “Is this your way of saying you’re wanting more from me?” Levi looks at him, and Erwin presses his thumb into Levi’s lips, slipping past them, into the boy’s mouth, wedging under his tongue. “Tell me what you want, my darling boy.”

 

Levi’s throat works and Erwin can feel the muscles shift around his digit. Timidly, Levi’s tongue wiggles around his knuckle, drawing figure eights with the tip.

 

“Oh?” Erwin withdraws and takes another too-hot sip of his tea. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

 

The quickness of the blush that flares up Levi’s neck and over his face, clear to his ears, tells Erwin the answer. “Well, katze, in that case, I need to punish you first. You have spoiled all my careful planning, after all.”

 

Just as quick as the flush came on, it drains. Levi utters one pleading, “Erwin.”

 

“Put the gun away,” Erwin orders. When that’s done, Levi comes to sit back on the bench. There’s silence between them, and Levi fidgets, so Erwin draws it out, determined to make Levi break first. He’s successful.

 

“I’m sorry,” Levi mutters.

 

Something in Erwin’s gut tells him it’s not a total surrender, and he rides on that feeling. “No, you’re not.”

 

Levi clicks his tongue, taking the bait. “Unlike you, I’m not lying.”

 

His intuition is right, Levi’s ire having been right under the surface. Erwin rises from his chair and retrieves a thick folder from one of the bookshelves. He’ll need it in a moment, and sets it on top of one of the closed laptops on the table. “Don’t throw a tantrum.”

 

“I’m not,” Levi says, tense.

 

“You’re such a stupid child sometimes,” Erwin says, taking his seat again. “You don’t need to act out for my attention.”

 

Levi narrows his eyes at Erwin. “I’m not throwing a fucking tantrum.”

 

“Yes, you are,” Erwin replies plainly, hoping to boil his boy’s blood, still mindful of the thin line of their circumstance. He still needs to be consistent in disciplining Levi while keeping him close. “You’re acting out because you want my attention. You’re afraid of how you’re going to be punished for your mishap tonight, and you want to know that I still care for you, so you’re acting out in your frustration.”

 

“This isn’t about that,” Levi snaps. “You lied to me--”

 

“ _Protected_ you,” Erwin interrupts. “I give you everything you need, and if that means I hold back from you, it’s for your own good, you ungrateful boy.”

 

“This wasn’t ‘ _holding back_ ’ from me. You lied! You showed me the newspaper and then you denied it. You _lied_. You made me believe that I was wrong, you made me hang on every word from your mouth instead of my own thoughts--”

 

“And look at how easy your life is when you don’t have to worry about that. Why don’t you want me to protect you?” Erwin exaggerates his sigh. “Why don’t you want me to take care of you?”

 

“This isn’t--”

 

“Yes, katze, it is. This is for your own good.”

 

Levi stands suddenly, slapping his hands flat on the table, yelling, “I should have fucking shot you!”

 

Erwin stands, too, towering, the power of the situation back with him. “Why didn’t you?”

 

“Because--”

 

“Because you’re nothing but what I make of you. You’re _mine_ . You obey _me_.” Erwin takes Levi’s jaw in a punishing grip. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

 

Levi rips his jaw away and kicks back the bench, which skitters across the floor from the force before tipping over. Erwin’s already got him again, a hand wound around his throat. Levi swipes at his elbow, knocking the ulnar nerve to come free, but Erwin is taking a fistful of his t-shirt in his other hand to drag him closer. Levi is smaller and faster, ducking down and back so that Erwin pulls the t-shirt over his head and Levi slips free.

 

In the momentary distraction, he comes at Erwin with a left-handed undercut, which is slightly weaker than it would be with his dominant hand, but it's got all five fingers behind it, a fair trade. Erwin throws his head back to avoid it, and then loops around, jabbing into Levi’s exposed ribs with all of his weight. The boy lets out an involuntary wheeze, his right hand instinctively coming across to guard the new injury.

 

“How many times,” Erwin says, calm despite the reawakened bloodlust, “have I told you that I don't like when you make me hurt you?”

 

“Then don't hurt me.” Levi takes a step back, angling his body so that his injured side is away from Erwin. “I don't make you do it.”

 

“Don't you? You display behaviour that needs to be corrected and I care about you too much to let it slide.”

 

Levi shakes his head, grimacing as he tries to draw a deep breath. “No, you're lying again.”

 

“I'm protecting you, my boy, don't you understand?”

 

Levi stumbles until his back hits a bookshelf and then he slides down to the floor, still clutching his side, his breathing laboured now. Erwin kneels beside him and peels Levi's hands back to assess the damage.

 

“It's only bruised,” Erwin says, touching his fingertips against the skin lightly. “Come on, let's finish our tea. You'll behave now, won't you?”

 

Levi looks wary but nods, taking Erwin’s help to stand, to right the bench. He sits his boy back down with firm hands on Levi’s shoulders, and after he takes his own seat in the office chair, Erwin passes the thick folder over, leaving his hand on top of it while he speaks. “There’s something I want you to understand.”

 

“Alright,” Levi says, defeated.

 

“I want you to understand that there is nowhere you can go that I won’t find you. I know everything about you from the last ten years. Believe me when I say that I know how to protect you,” Erwin taps the folder with his index finger. “This is your file. Everything in your life in the last decade is in here. You’ll never be able to run from me or from the Organisation. You're mine. Do you understand?”

 

Levi nods, solemn, and pushes the folder back toward Erwin. “I believe you.”

 

“Don’t you want to read it?”

 

“I trust you,” he surrenders. “If you say it, it must either be true or for my own good, right? You never lie to me.” The last part is so quiet that Erwin strains to hear it, but when he does, he can’t help the small smile. When he stands to take the file back to its proper place, he tips Levi’s chin up and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips.

 

“That’s my good boy, my good little katze,” Erwin praises. Fight and fire are flushing from Levi’s gaze, that glossy deadness glazing over now. Whatever inspiration caused all of this is crushed, and Levi is figuratively curling up in the palm of Erwin’s hand again. “So good, so perfect.”

 

Levi only blinks. Erwin returns the folder and then stands behind Levi, raking both of his hands along the boy’s scalp. His boy is limber under his touch, wholly yielding, conceding to Erwin’s words and giving up his own opinion.

 

“I’m sorry for calling you a liar,” Levi volunteers, leaning into Erwin’s touch with closed eyes. “You do all of this for me, and I had the nerve to doubt you.”

 

“ _Shh_ , it’s alright.”

 

“No, it’s not.” Levi’s words still lack any bite, all serene. “I shouldn’t have done that. Whatever you do is for my own good. You’ve been nothing but good to me, Erwin, I’m sorry.”

 

Erwin leans down and presses his lips to the space between Levi’s brows. In a first, he says, “You’re forgiven.”

 

Levi blinks open his eyes, a set of crystalline tears escaping the corners. “Erwin….”

 

“Shhh.” Erwin gives him a butterfly kiss on his forehead.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

“I know; you’re forgiven, katze.” One more peck of his lips on his boy’s brow and then Erwin meets his eyes again. The brokenness that comes with this is more beautiful than the remorse that follows a punishment, he thinks briefly. “Hey, now, you’re forgiven, don’t cry.”

 

“Erwin--”

 

But he cuts Levi off, saying for the first time, “I love you.”

 

Levi’s eyes go wide and then fill to the brim, spilling over the sides, rivers pouring down his cheeks. Erwin licks them up eagerly, savouring the saltiness of Levi’s tears, hard earned and worthwhile, saying over and over a litany, “I love you.”

 

“Erwin,” Levi chokes, pliant. “no one has said that to me since....”

 

_Your mother_ , Erwin thinks.

 

“I love you,” Levi breathes, leaning his body back against the support of Erwin’s own.

 

“I'm going to take you,” Erwin says, lacing his fingers together at the front of Levi’s throat, nudging Levi’s head back into a natural forward position with his thumbs. “Would you like that, would you like me to make love to you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Erwin rakes his nails down Levi's exposed spine, and his boy arches his back at the scratches, an exquisite moan falling from his mouth.

 

“God, Erwin!”

 

“Do you need to be gagged?”

 

Levi shakes his head, letting out a slow exhale.

 

“Tell me what you want. What might you like?” Erwin spider walks his fingers back up Levi’s spine, making him squirm. “I know you've never been fucked before.”

 

There's a whine and then, “Everything. Give me everything.”

 

“So ambitious.” Erwin tugs Levi's hair playfully, amazed at how fast he can take the atmosphere around them from somber and serious to lustful. “Take off your boxers and go sit in the couch.”

 

Levi does as he's told while Erwin watches, making no move to undress himself, instead striding over to Levi and leaning down to spread the boy’s knees with his large hands. His palms alone completely eclipse the small patellas, and Erwin settles on his own knees between those legs. There's a clear power in being clothed while another person is naked, showcasing that he is in charge even in this submissive role.

 

“Keep your hands on top of your thighs,” Erwin instructs, glancing up at Levi from beneath his lashes. “I'm going to blow you and work you open until you can take three of my fingers, and then I'm going to fuck you.”

 

A shiver works its way up Levi's body and his eyes flutter closed as he nods.

 

“Good boy,” Erwin tells him. Levi is half-hard all on his own. Having bathed Levi from time to time, he's seen this before, but there is a newness in it now that demands revelled in. Levi is uncut and intact, the head of his cock protected by the foreskin covering it, and whereas his beard is patchy, the hair between his legs is an absolute thicket. It dusts over the upper insides of his thighs and paves a thick trail north that tucks into his navel, a cute button of an outie from the umbilical hernia as a baby. Erwin spears his finger through the hairs, pulling to see the length of them, oddly impressed. His past preference has always been for skin shaved clean, but _this_... Erwin can get used to this. He stuffs his nose in the coarse curls, rewarded with the scent of a body thoroughly washed of its natural odor, and wastes no time sucking Levi’s entire length into his mouth.

 

Levi hisses above him, the instinctive jut of his hips unthreatening with his cock still livening up. Erwin works at the foreskin, tickling it with broad strokes of his tongue, the tip skating up the back of it with every go. As it is now, it just comes to Erwin’s tonsils, and he uses his tongue to massage the underside, feeling it continue to grow quickly with Levi’s eager, youthful libido.

 

“ _Shit_.” Levi’s moan is shaky. It won’t take much to impress his boy, Erwin knows, but he’s still going to offer up his best. The organ in his mouth is hot and hard now, and Erwin bobs experimentally, testing the feel of it as the head pushes down his throat. He stifles his gag reflex to keep from choking and then pulls up, but not completely off, flicking his tongue over the exposed head, holding it still between his teeth. It’s slicker than one circumcised, the taste of it distinctly savoury and undeniably sexual, making Erwin crave the taste of cum.

 

He can hear Levi’s panting. His right hand makes its way up Levi’s chest and neck before he pushes his index and middle finger between the boy’s lips. Levi sucks them in, imitating the motions Erwin just made on him back on Erwin’s fingers. When the digits are sufficiently slobbered up, Erwin pulls them away and slides them between Levi’s ass cheeks, finding the hole and pushing the tip of his index finger in without warning.

 

Levi starts off in a high cry that, as Erwin pushes in up to the knuckle of the spit-slicked finger, lowers until the sound is little more than a low, rumbling purr from his chest, purely erotic.

 

Erwin releases the head of Levi’s cock from between his teeth long enough to whisper “good boy, darling” before he begins to bob in earnest. Levi clenches tight around his intruding finger, and Erwin wiggles it around. His name leaves his boy’s lips in that purr, spurring him on. He finds a rhythm with the strokes of his finger and the bobbing of his head, coming off a few times to sternly instruct Levi to relax his body. He’s tight, as expected, and Erwin is only just getting him accustomed to two fingers when Levi cums suddenly, the only warning in the way Levi’s hands snaked into Erwin’s hair tightly and didn’t let go. Erwin swallows and milks out the last stubborn drops, not bothering to stop when the hypersensitivity kicks in, making Levi writhe like he’s burning in hell fire.

 

Erwin is merciful, though, licking Levi’s receding head one last time before letting it fall from his mouth.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Erwin,” Levi sighs, completely sunken into the couch now, his hands obediently back in place. He’s so sated that his squirming response to Erwin’s fingers snug in his ass is muted too, something that Erwin takes full advantage of. He slides his fingers out and spits onto them noisily, nestling his ring finger in alongside the other two. Three inside him now, Levi is helpless to his reactions, his mouth falling open and his legs spreading just a little more, seeking more, _begging_ for more. Erwin never brought lovers here, so he’s unprepared except for a small container of vaseline he keeps in the medicine cabinet for the inexorable chapping of winter.

 

Levi’s head in thrown back, his moans strung together in that purring, when Erwin considers him worked open enough to fuck.

 

“Give me your hand,” Erwin says, and Levi does so. Erwin bunches up four of the boy’s fingers to match his three and guide them to his ass, replacing Erwin’s when he pulls out. The bathroom is only a few steps away and in a breath, Erwin is back with the vaseline. Levi still has his fingers stuffed into himself though he doesn’t move them, and Erwin pulls them out one by one so that he can extensively coat Levi’s entrance, and then pushes them back in, holding his boy open.

 

“Erwin,” Levi sighs, shimmying his hips. “Erwin, _fuck_ me.”

 

Even now, Erwin remains dressed, unzipping his jeans only to let his cock free. Both men are hard, Levi having gone soft for a moment or two before jumping back to attention, a true testament to stamina.

 

“Come down here, bend over the couch.” Erwin helps him, moving Levi into position before him while being careful not to dislodge his fingers. “Good boy, little katze.”

 

Levi arches his back, his buttocks pressing into Erwin, who chuckles and takes a grip on him by the back of the neck. With his other hand, he gives his dick a generous coat of vaseline and a few strokes, doubting his longevity with how long it’s been since he last came. There will be plenty of time later to prove his endurance in round two.

 

“Erwin, _fuck_ me,” Levi moans again, heavy on the ‘ _k_ ’, when Erwin swats his fingers from his hole and nudges his cock against it. Levi grips the sheet tossed on the couch, would throw his head back if not for Erwin’s hold on his nape.

 

“ _Shhh._ ” Erwin pushes Levi’s head down until he’s forced to rest his cheek on the couch cushion, and then he leans over Levi to whisper in his ear, “I love you.”

 

“Love you,” Levi replies, receiving a reassuring squeeze of his nape when he tries to lift his head. Erwin chooses that moment to push in and he can’t help the groan that escapes him. He goes slow at first, not overwhelm his boy and put him off from sex. Levi is sweating and still and quiet under him, controlled breathing and little whimpers when Erwin thrusts deeply inside of him. It’s probably best for Levi that Erwin doesn’t last long before he cums, too, and then he reaches around to Levi to stroke his boy to completion a second time.

 

Levi refuses to climb onto the sofa with Erwin until they’re both wiped down, and then they turn off the lights and slip under the blankets together, Levi like a lazily cat on Erwin’s chest. He elected to stay naked and Erwin finally joined him in nudity, knowing the intimacy of skin to skin works just as well as sex in terms of forming attachment. There’s a storm on the horizon barreling towards them, but Erwin dials down his inner strategist to enjoy the moment, to enjoy owning Levi’s mind, spirit, and body. When Erwin wakes in the morning, he’ll deal with the clusterfuck that is sure to be Levi’s resurfacing, but at least now he is confident in Levi’s devotion to him, and therefore, to the Organisation.

 

“I love you,” Levi murmurs just before he succumbs to his exhaustion. Erwin cradles his boy in his arms and only thinks about blowing Levi’s brains out once more before he, too, gives in and sleeps.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this world and plan to continue writing in it. I'm influenceable, so feel free to chat me up about it. There's a lot of missing moments I want to write, especially between Levi/Nanaba and Erwin/Mike. And maybe even more political sequel....


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